


Undertones and Overtures

by RockSaltAndRoll



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Come Shot, Deaf!Steve, Disabled!Bucky, Frottage, Lung Cancer, M/M, Oral Sex, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Rimming, Sarah Rogers - Freeform, Slow Burn, Terminal Illnesses
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-19
Updated: 2015-02-11
Packaged: 2018-02-13 21:36:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 24
Words: 106,777
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2166012
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RockSaltAndRoll/pseuds/RockSaltAndRoll
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Steve is deaf and Bucky is an amputee.</p><p>Bucky Barnes is studying for his masters in Music Composition at Juilliard when he unexpectedly meets skinny little artist Steve Rogers in a book store one Saturday. They both have their issues and it’s going to take a lot to understand each other, but with a little help from friends and family, they might be able to make this work.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> As usual, massive thanks to my ‘bouncers’, mellyblue007 and shortsighted-owl who let me throw plot points at them and throw ideas right back. Also to note that this fic deals with things I know nothing about - music, art, ballet, and ASL. I’m doing my research as I go along, so please bear with me and be nice if I make a mistake. Thank you.

“I dunno, Nat – I just don’t think Rebecca is much of a Dostoyevsky kinda gal,” said Bucky Barnes as he continued to peruse the shelves of the bookstore that he’d been in for a good twenty minutes to no avail.

His friend, Natasha Romanoff, sighed dramatically on the other end of the phone.

“Well then, I don’t fucking know,” Nat replied. For a Prima Ballerina for the New York City Ballet, she had a mouth on her like a sailor. “Just get her one of those Dan Brown novels that everyone keeps raving about.”

Bucky sighed. He had been friends with Natasha for almost six years now, but sometimes, like when he actually needed some sound advice, he wanted to strangle her for being so damn unhelpful.

“Sometimes, I don’t even know why I like you,” he muttered, turning the corner in the bookstore to scan the non-fiction section.

In truth, he knew exactly why – Natasha knew him like nobody else. She knew when he needed his ass kicked and knew when he needed a shoulder to cry on. Natasha had even taken it upon herself to get Bucky back in shape after the extensive surgery he’d underwent the previous year. He didn’t know where he’d be in life without her.

“Damn it Nat,” he sighed. “You know she doesn’t read shit like that. All my sister wants for her birthday is a book but she told me to surprise her and wouldn’t give me any other hints. Everything I have read in the last 6 years is related to music theory in one way or another, so I have no idea where to even begin and I don’t think that Becca wants to read ‘Theory of Orchestration’, you know?”

“Well, I hear that 50 Shades of Grey series is awfully popular right now…”

“Don’t you even fucking joke about that…” he grumbled.

There was absolutely no way in hell he was going to buy that trash for his little sister.

“So, you’re coming over later, right?” Natasha continued in his ear as Bucky picked up a book with a colourful cover and scanned the back.

“Yeah yeah, keep your tutu on, Anna Pavlova,” he replied grumpily.

“Good,” she said, pointedly ignoring the jibe, “because I really need to practice and to do that, I really need my pianist, so….”

Bucky stopped listening, because at that exact moment, he looked up from the book in his hand and instantly fell in love.

Now, Bucky Barnes had always been a firm believer in love at first sight – he was an annoyingly romantic soul, even though he tried to hide it with snark and sarcasm and bitterness. However, he had yet to actually experience it until that exact moment.

Directly in his line of sight, sitting in the coffee shop part of this particular book store was a guy. The first thing Bucky noticed about him was his hands – they were beautiful, with long slim fingers gripping a pencil and sketchbook lightly, making swift, deft movements across the paper as he drew. The side of his right hand and little finger were stained grey with graphite, but the rest of his hands were clean, nails trimmed short and neat, and he had the most gorgeous and delicate wrists that Bucky had ever seen in his life.

His eyes quickly swept over the rest of the guy, taking in a small, thin frame in skinny jeans and plaid shirt, one Converse-clad foot resting on the small coffee table in front of him and his sketchbook resting on his raised knee. The guy’s face was almost as beautiful as his hands – long, oval, and sharp with big eyes, framed with large-rimmed glasses and straw-blond hair that was swept up and back off his head. His brow was creased in concentration, thick bottom lip caught gently between his teeth as he sketched. Bucky might have forgotten how to breathe for a second.

“…are you even fucking listening to me?”

Natasha’s voice sounded irritable in his left ear and brought Bucky back to the present.

“Er…no,” he replied.

“James…”

“I’ll call you back, Nat.”

“Don’t you fucking da…”

He cut off the call and stuffed his phone back in his pocket, one of the joins on the index finger of his experimental metal prosthetic arm getting caught on a loose thread and forcing Bucky to almost tear a hole in his pocket as he yanked it free. Glancing up again hastily, he let out a relieved sigh when he found that the blond guy hadn’t looked up from his sketchbook to bear witness to Bucky being an absolute loser.

Bucky skirted the bookshelves, trying to be inconspicuous as he attempted to get a closer look, picking up random books and putting them back without so much as glancing at the covers. The tiny blond was engrossed in his work, the side of his hand deliberately brushing over the paper every now and then to smudge the pencil, his tongue delicately flicking out over his lips sporadically. God, but those lips were beautiful. Bucky had been looking for him all of two minutes when he decided that, second to those hands, the guy’s lips were Bucky’s second favourite feature about him, so plump and pale pink. They looked so soft and kissable.

“Get a grip, Barnes,” he muttered to himself, sliding another book off the shelf in front of him before glancing up again.

The book promptly fell from his hands as Bucky found himself staring into a pair of eyes that were as blue as the summer sky and framed with thick dark eyelashes.

“Fuck,” he cursed loudly and dropped behind the book shelf, flattening his back to the books as he retrieved the one that he had dropped and also hoping to hide the embarrassment of being caught checking out a cute guy.

Somebody tittered at him for swearing, but he couldn’t tell who it was. Instead, he took a deep breath and slowly stood up, looking over the top of the bookshelf and over to where the blond was sitting.

The guy had his phone out and was hastily texting something. Bucky was relieved that his enormous fuck-up had seemed to go unnoticed. Moments later, he noticed the guy shoving his sketch pad and pencil into a battered tan messenger bag and grab a navy jacket from the back of his chair before standing and walking out of the book store, phone in hand, still texting. He walked right past Bucky without so much as glancing at him. Bucky did notice just how tight those skinny jeans were as the guy presented him with an excellent view from the rear as he left.

Sighing heavily, he finally looked at the book in his hands and grimaced as he realised that he was holding a copy of ‘What to Expect When You’re Expecting’. This was officially, the least cool day of Bucky Barnes’ life.

~

Steve Rogers couldn’t quite contain his grin as he walked out of the bookstore in Brooklyn, strongly resisting the urge to look back over his shoulder and confirm what he had suspected. Because what he suspected was that the most beautiful guy Steve had ever seen in his entire life, had been checking him out just a few moments ago.

He had been going to that bookstore every single Saturday morning for two years, ever since his mother received her diagnosis and had weekly appointments to attend, either with doctors or nurses or support groups. While she was out, Steve would take his sketchbook and pencil and just sit and draw totally meaningless things, like the grain of the wooden coffee table or the bumps on the spine of a leather-covered hardback book, or the magnificently gaudy earrings of the book store clerk. It was his time to clear his head while he sipped decent coffee and didn’t have to think about anybody but himself for a couple of hours. It was nice.

Today had been different. Not drastically different – everything was absolutely the same as it always had been right up until the last few minutes that he’d been there. Until he’d had that feeling of being watched. Steve had looked up to find himself looking into beautiful blue-grey eyes and had felt a jolt like electricity run down his spine. The guy was fucking gorgeous, with presumably shoulder-length dark hair tied back into a ponytail, stray tendrils framing a face that sported a strong jaw line and an adorably dimpled chin, and he was wearing a leather jacket.

The guy had near jumped out of his skin and in the seconds that followed, flushed a deep pink and dropped the book he was holding onto the floor. Steve had grinned as the guy ducked out of sight. That didn’t happen to him too often, but Steve knew when he was getting checked out. It was the best feeling in the world when some hot stranger thought you were worth a second glance.

Steve unfortunately had no time to bask in the feeling however, as seconds later his phone vibrated in the pocket of his jeans – his mother had finished her appointment and was waiting for Steve to meet her. Hastily he had stuffed his belongings back in his back and had deliberately walked out of the store past Ponytail Guy with his head held high, possibly moving his hips a little more than he normally would.

As he walked to meet his mother, he began to text his friend Sam Wilson who, Steve knew, spent his Saturday mornings on the couch in his sweatpants, watching I Love Lucy.

**{Something weird just happened}** he texted as he walked. 

Thirty seconds later, he got the reply.

**{Sam: Good weird or bad weird.}**

**{Steve: Good weird. Just got totally checked out by the hottest guy on the planet.}**

**{Sam: Yeah? You sure he wasn’t wondering if he could use you as a toothpick?}**

**{Steve: Fucking hilarious, Wilson.}**

**{Sam: I do my best ;-)}**

**{Steve: He dropped a book. It was adorable}**

**{Sam: Loser.}**

Steve felt the laugh leave his chest without warning and he glanced around quickly to make sure that passers-by hadn’t noticed. He grinned at texted back:

**{At least he got off his ass and found his way to a book store instead of lounging around in his underwear.}**

It took Sam a whole thirty seconds before sending his reply.

**{Sam: Touché.}**

Steve snorted with mirth, knowing that he’d won that round. He was only around the corner from the hospital and he quickly stashed his phone as he saw his mother waiting for him on the corner. She looked very frail these days, long blond hair having been replaced by a colourful silk scarf wrapped her now-bald head, and her coat collar turned up to keep the chill from the back of her neck. Steve’s hear ached every time he saw her now, diminished with several bouts of chemotherapy but he smiled brightly for her anyway.

_“Hi, mom”_ , Steve signed to her.

_“Hi, angel,”_ she signed back, her lips moving as she did so before drawing Steve into a tight hug.

He sighed softly against her shoulder, once soft and fleshy but now as thin and bony as Steve’s. He squeezed her back gently before pulling away, his mother beaming at him.

_“How did it go?”_ Steve signed.

_“Fine,”_ she replied, lips forming the words as she signed them with her hands. Not for the first time in his life, Steve wished he knew what her voice sounded like. _“I’m just tired now.”_

Steve nodded and held out his arm which she took gratefully. He kissed her softly on the cheek and watched as her lips formed the words ‘beautiful boy’, and he smiled, shaking his head fondly. She was always in high spirits when she left the hospital, but Steve knew that within a few hours, he’d be rubbing her bony back while she rode through the nausea the treatment always gave her.

~

“So, what the fuck was that all about earlier?” Natasha asked, as she dipped forward gracefully, her foot resting on the wooden bar in front of the full length mirrors on the wall of the tiny dance studio.

“Hmm?” replied Bucky, his fingers dancing lightly over the piano keys as he played a soft tune while his friend limbered up.

“Putting the phone down on me earlier,” she said.

“Oh,” Bucky answered guiltily. “Sorry about that.”

Natasha made an indistinguishable sound as she straightened up before slowly bending herself backwards.

“So what happened? Something obviously got your attention.”

Bucky looked up from the small studio piano and sighed. Ever since landing a place with the New York City Ballet, Natasha had favoured this tiny dance studio over the bigger ones, because this one had a piano and she wanted Bucky to play as much as possible.

He did love playing the piano, and even more he loved playing for Natasha. He’d gone for too long being unable to play, until the geniuses at Columbia had brought out their new experimental prosthesis and Bucky had jumped at the chance to play guinea pig. She had stuck by him and hounded him back into fitness after his surgery, so it was the least Bucky could do to be her rehearsal pianist on Saturday afternoons,

“Yeah, don’t worry about it,” he muttered as he launched into some Chopin. “I made a total ass of myself.”

“Pretty girl?” Natasha asked, grinning as she straightened and took her foot off the bar.

“Pretty guy,” corrected Bucky.

Natasha laughed as she put her feet into the first position and relaxed her arms.

“You horribly embarrassed yourself, didn’t you?”

“Oh yeah,” he replied. “Dorkus Maximus.”

He told her about dropping the book, about which book he’d been holding in the first place, and how the guy had breezed past him moments later on his way out, like Bucky didn’t even exist. Natasha laughed again and shook her head fondly.

“You never change, James. For all your confidence and charm, you still turn into a nervous wreck around the object of your affections.”

Bucky snorted.

“I wouldn’t go that far. I only saw him for five minutes.”

However, as Bucky began playing a piece for Natasha to dance to, he knew that he’d be going back to that bookstore the following weekend, hoping to see that tiny blond with the stunning eyes and beautiful hands again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gorgeous fan art by lilfayt on tumblr <3 Thank you darling - it's perfect xxx


	2. Chapter 2

Steve was delighted the following week when Hot Ponytail Guy (as he had been referred to in all text conversations between himself and Sam) showed up at the book store again. He watched out of the corner of his eye as the guy skirted the rows of bookshelves and made his way to the coffee shop part, buying himself a large hot beverage and taking a seat at a distance from Steve but in full view.

He watched as the guy slipped off his backpack and took out a few schoolbooks and what seemed to be a pencil and a lined notebook, placing them all on the table to next to his coffee before taking off his jacket. Steve sat up straighter in his chair as he caught sight of it and wondered how in the hell he hadn’t noticed it before that exact second.

The guy’s entire left arm was metal. Not your regular metal prosthesis with a hinge elbow and a pincer hand that you often saw on war vets – this thing was a perfect arm, with a bicep and a working elbow and a hand with fingers that moved independently of each other. It was shiny and made of dozens of overlapping metal plates and tiny joints, and Steve had never wanted to draw anything so much in his life.

He couldn’t imagine where somebody would get a prosthesis like that, couldn’t imagine who would have made it, how it could possibly work. Steve did know that it was incredibly beautiful though, and he was instantly fascinated by it, and the gorgeous fella that it was attached to. Hot Ponytail Guy just got a whole lot hotter if that could ever be possible. Not because Steve had a fetish for amputees, but because he knew exactly what it was like to live with a disability, and so did the guy with the ponytail. They had something in common.

Steve sketched him – little drawings of the metal arm at first, like the way the plates sat over each other, how tiny and delicate they were at the fingers, how dexterous each digit seemed as the guy curled them around his coffee mug and lifted it to his mouth. And then Steve started sketching that mouth – the cupid-bow at the top, bottom lip all plump and wet where the guy kept drawing it into his mouth with his teeth before letting it go with a tiny flick of his tongue.

The guy glanced up from his books and Steve realised with a jolt that he’d been staring instead of sketching and he felt the heat rise in his cheeks. He gave the guy a small smile to cover his fluster and his stomach fluttered slightly when the guy smiled back, bright and gorgeous. Steve quickly lowered his eyes to his sketch pad once again and tried to breathe normally.

They must have caught each other’s eye a couple more times in the next hour, smiles growing wider and a little more confident every time until Steve’s phone vibrated in his pocket, signalling his time to exit the coffee shop and meet his mother.

Steve was pretty sure that Hot Ponytail Guy stared at his ass again as he was leaving.

~

Bucky made it a habit to go to the book store every Saturday morning from then on. Honestly, he didn’t know why he hadn’t started doing it sooner since his Saturday morning lie-ins were often disrupted by his roommate, Clint Barton.

At first glance, Bucky and Clint did not seem like they would make half-decent acquaintances, never mind roommates or even friends. The truth was, it had all been a huge misunderstanding in the first place.

A couple of years earlier, Bucky had needed a roommate. Unfortunately for him, he was sort of looked upon as the dregs of Juilliard – Brooklyn born with an accent he’d just never been able to lose, on full scholarship with the maximum of financial support because he’d been an orphan with a younger sibling to support and had grown up in Foster care, and he was the weird kid studying Music Composition with one arm. It didn’t matter that he was confident, charming, relatively good-looking and actually popular – he was not the kind of boy that the mommies and daddies of Juilliard’s finest rich kids wanted as their child’s roommate.

So he’d advertised – single, male, non-smoker requires roommate. Must love music. Bucky had ended up with Clint – a DJ for a local nightclub who, teamed with his constant close proximity to very loud music and the fact that he was rendered 80% hearing impaired as a child, was always very loud. And he had no appreciation for classical music.

Not that Bucky was stuck up. Far from it actually. His iPod housed everything from Chopin and Tchaikovsky to Bob Dylan, Jay Z, The Beatles, Swedish House Mafia and Beyonce. He loved jazz and swing and blues, and he loved rap and hard house and trance, and he loved pop and rock and punk. But Clint had no desire to hang around quietly for several hours on Saturday mornings while Bucky sat at his beaten old upright piano, bought for fifty dollars from an Irish bar down the road who wanted rid of it fast, and attempted to compose something.

Clint would come home from pulling an all-nighter, carrying a half-empty pizza box with a bedraggled mongrel trailing behind him and immediately launch into a symphony of clanging and banging as he made coffee, burned himself on the pot, and fell into the shower, bringing the curtain down on himself.

Bucky had been escaping the apartment for a month before Clint actually brought it up.

“So what’s so fascinating about a bookstore?”

“Well, for one, there are ten times as many people there at any given moment than there are in this apartment and they’re all quiet than you,” Bucky replied as he knocked Clint’s feet off his school book and shoved it into his backpack.

“And?” Barton asked, his mouth full of cold pizza.

It was only nine in the morning.

“And what?”

“Well, you started out with ‘for one’, so I’m assuming there is a ‘secondly’ coming up.”

Bucky pointedly ignored him as he saved his left Doc Marten from the mouth of this month’s latest rescue dog.

“Barnes?” Clint pressed.

“Alright,” sighed Bucky as he leaned against the wall and shoved his foot into the boot. “There’s a guy…”

“Like, a mafia boss or a boyfriend-type.”

“Neither, but closer to the latter than the former.”

“A not-quite-boyfriend type?”

“Yeah.”

“And why is he not-quite-boyfriend instead of being definitely-boyfriend?”

Bucky pushed his hair out of his face as he straightened.

“I’m working on it,” he replied quietly.

Clint laughed, startling the dog as he threw he head right over the back of the couch.

“You mean you’re too chicken to ask him out? What do you do? Just stare at him longingly from the other end of the store?”

Bucky looked at his feet. Well, yes.

He frowned at his roommate as he picked up his backpack and walked to the door.

“I said I’m working on it,” he called back over his shoulder.

“Don’t make me call Natasha to stage an intervention!” Clint yelled after him.

Bucky could still hear him laughing from halfway down the hall.

~

Hot Ponytail Guy had honestly become the highlight of Steve’s week. He always came in and sat in the same spot, at a distance but in full view, and sat there doing schoolwork until Steve had to go. He’d glance up every now and then and he’d smile, and Steve would smile back and then they would go back to working on whatever they had been working on. It had been like that for four consecutive Saturdays and Steve always left to meet his mother feeling giddy with butterflies fluttering around his stomach.

She had asked him the previous week why he was so happy lately when he came to meet her.

 _“There’s a guy who’s started coming to the bookstore,”_ Steve had told her over lunch, setting his plate aside so he could sign more easily.

Sarah Rogers raised her brow.

_“What’s he like?”_

Steve had smiled and passed an open hand over his face in a circle.

_“Beautiful.”_

His mother smiled back.

 _“Tell me,”_ she had signed.

Steve tried to explain as best he could about the gorgeous human being that he saw every Saturday morning – about his hair that was always swept back into a high ponytail, about his dimpled chin and his strong jaw, his beautiful smile, his blue-grey eyes.

 _“He’s disabled,”_ he’d added finally.

_“In a wheelchair?”_

Steve shook his head.

_“He’s got a prosthetic left arm. It looks very advanced.”_

“Ah,” his mother had said aloud before signing, _“Are you going to ask him out?”_

Steve had shaken his head sadly.

_“He’s hearing.”_

_“So am I,”_ she had replied. _“So is Sam – we learned to sign. He can too.”_

His mother had had a good point.

All the same, Steve had pretty much contented himself with admiring the guy from afar. Until the fifth week, when something different happened.

Hot Ponytail Guy walked into the store as he always had but instead of getting his coffee and sitting down, he wandered around like he had the first Saturday that Steve had seen him. At first, Steve thought that he was talking on the phone but both of his hands were free and there were no earphones visible.

He was muttering to himself.

Steve looked at the guy from over the rim of his glasses and followed him with his eyes, zoning in on the guy’s lips to try and read them. After a moment, Steve started to grin.

~

“Do you want to maybe go for a coffee? No, don’t be fucking stupid, he comes here for coffee, why would he want to leave here and go elsewhere for the same thing?”

Bucky muttered under his breath as he perused the bookshelves again, not really looking for anything at all, but biding time until he figured out what he was going to say. His conversation with Clint had left Bucky wondering if he was being an idiot. Every week he just sat there and tried to do some reading and a little bit of composition, but mostly ending up staring at the adorable blond with his dumb hipster glasses sitting over the other side of the coffee shop.

Bucky was already half in love with those big blue eyes, the way the blond would look up at him from his sketch book, through those long dark eyelashes and smile at him before glancing to the side and back down again. He loved those hands and the way he sketched…whatever it was. Bucky would have loved to get a glance at that sketch book, to see what it was the guy spent his time drawing.

So maybe his roommate had a point – maybe Bucky should stop admiring from a distance and actually ask the guy out.

“Do you…er…want to go for a drink? Go for dinner? Hey, my name’s Bucky…do you maybe want to go out sometime…oh for fuck’s sake Barnes, get a grip.”

He sighed heavily and pushed his hair back from his face as he looked over at the cute blond. He was looking right at Bucky, a smile on his face, hands still on his sketchbook. Bucky’s stomach flipped and his breath caught as he felt himself smile back. This was his chance. Now or never.

Bucky squared his shoulders and took a step forward, noticing as the guy sat up a little straighter…and then Bucky’s phone went off in his pocket.

“Fuck,” he gritted as he stopped mid-stride and fished his phone out of his pocket. “What?”

“Woah!” replied Natasha. “Beg fucking pardon for interrupting, your Majesty.”

Bucky sighed as he turned away and started walking in the opposite direction to the object of his affections.

“Sorry Nat,” he said, passing a hand over his face. “I was just…kind of about to do something.”

“Oh, well I can call you later…”

“No, it’s fine,” Bucky replied hastily. “The moment has passed.”

“Okay,” she said lightly. “I just wanted to know if you’d be such a gentleman and pick me up some tampons before you make your way here?”

“Seriously, Nat? You called me for that?”

“Yeah…”

“You couldn’t have just sent a text? You had to call me when I was about to do the Very Important Thing…”

“Fucking hell, James! What were you about to do? Find the cure for cancer?”

“Hilarious,” Bucky sighed. “It doesn’t matter now. I’ll tell you what, I’ll pick them up now and be there in a half hour.”

There wasn’t any point in sticking around the bookstore – the gorgeous blond had gone back to his sketching and Bucky had made enough of an ass of himself for one day as it was. With a groan, he stashed his phone back in his pocket and left.


	3. Chapter 3

_“I think he was trying to ask me out,”_ Steve signed to his friend Sam over lunch the following Monday.

 _“Are you sure he’s not just crazy and was talking to himself?”_ Sam signed back.

Steve snorted.

 _“Thank you,”_ Steve replied. _“It’s good to know that my best friend thinks I’m not worthy of Hot Ponytail Guy’s affections.”_

 _“I just know you’re a little shit, that’s all,”_ Sam signed back with a grin.

This time Steve laughed out loud and threw a grape at his friend, shaking his head. Their conversation halted as they ate their pretzels while sitting on a Central Park bench, watching the people walk by. Steve always loved this lunch spot, no matter what the weather was like.

After a moment, Sam lightly touched Steve’s arm to get his attention.

_“I thought you didn’t date hearing people anyway.”_

Steve shrugged.

 _“I might be willing to make an exception for this one,”_ he replied.

Sam was right – it was really difficult to date a hearing person when you were deaf. Steve had tried it once with a pretty girl he’d met a work, but communication was difficult and that relationship hadn’t really lasted to the end of the week.

Sam was different – he had a deaf parent and even though he was hearing, his sign language was perfect.

Not that Steve did badly or anything. He couldn’t hear but his lip reading was good enough that he could catch maybe half of the words being spoken and get the general feel of the conversation from that. Steve could also speak, but preferred not to if he could at all help it. Apparently, the voice of a deaf person sounded thick and a lot of the words were not fully formed which made them difficult to understand, or at least that’s what he’d been told all his life. Hearing people also tended to avoid learning sign language, preferring to treat deaf people as stupid instead or accepting their own ignorance.

It posed a lot of barriers between the worlds of the deaf and the hearing, but Steve _liked_ this guy. He was beautiful and interesting to draw, and he read books on composers and his smile was so charming that Steve could melt into a puddle every time he saw it. Plus, he was pretty positive that the guy had been trying to talk himself into asking Steve out.

If only Steve could find a way of asking Hot Ponytail Guy out instead.

~

Bucky had lost his nerve somewhat since the previous Saturday when he’d aborted his attempt to ask out the cute blond guy in favour of answering the phone to Natasha. At first he’d been annoyed, but after giving it much thought during the week, Bucky had decided that everything happened for a reason, and that Natasha had called him right before he’d been about to walk over made him think it had been the universe’s way of telling him that this wasn’t the right time.

Hence the next Saturday found him sitting in his usual spot with his medium hazelnut latte, stealing glances at the gorgeous little guy over the top of this Mozart biography. The blond looked particularly adorable today, in his skinny jeans and Converse with a ridiculously oversized dark red sweater worn over a black shirt. He looked like he’d ran out of the house in a hurry and grabbed the first thing he could find to wear, which just so happened to be the sweater that belonged to his big, broad-shouldered and possibly very muscular boyfriend. Oh god, Bucky really hoped that the blond didn’t have a big, broad-shouldered and possibly very muscular boyfriend.

Bucky had noticed the ear piercing in the second week, but hadn’t noticed until the fourth that the blond actually had both ears pierced and he swapped sides every so often. Today, he was wearing a stud in his left ear, his blond hair swept up off his face, and those large rimmed glasses hiding his summer-sky blue eyes as always. Bucky honestly tried not to sigh wistfully as he reached over for his coffee cup.

“What’s up, girlfriend?”

Natasha’s familiar voice interrupted his pining and he looked up to find his ballerina friend looming over him with her arms folded over her chest. It was impressive that Natasha could loom, seeing as she was only about five feet three inches tall, but she was very good at it. Bucky blinked in surprise.

“What are you doing here?”

Bucky hastily swiped his backpack from the chair next to him just as Natasha flopped gracefully into it, narrowly avoiding squashing all of his books.

“I’ve come to see what all the fuss is about,” Natasha replied as she leaned over and took the coffee mug from him, bringing it to her own lips.

“What do you mean?” asked Bucky, stealing a glance towards the hot blond who was thankfully still engrossed in his sketchbook.

“I mean that I’ve been talking to Clint,” said Natasha as she placed the coffee mug on the table and drew the back of her hand across her mouth, wiping away the small foam moustache, “and he says that you’ve spent every Saturday morning for the last six weeks in this book store, lusting after some cute guy. So we’re staging an intervention.”

“Isn’t Clint supposed to be here if you’re both staging an intervention?”

“He’s asleep,” replied Natasha simply. “Anyway, he doesn’t really need to be here if you have me.”

Bucky sighed and put down his book.

“Nat, I don’t need an intervention.”

“Yeah, because sitting here staring at a guy for the last six weeks and not doing anything about it is a totally healthy pastime.”

Bucky made a face.

“Well you know, I kinda was going to do something about it last week until somebody called me up and asked me to bring tampons, so it’s sorta your fault that I’ve done nothing about it.”

Natasha rolled her eyes and slouched in her chair, putting her feet up on the coffee table.

“So which one is he?” she asked, looking around casually.

Bucky say back and sighed, resigned.

“Far side, directly opposite me.”

Natasha was thankfully subtle, glancing around the entire bookstore before her eyes settled on the blond with the sketchbook. Turning back to him, she raised her eyebrows.

“Cute!” she murmured. “I mean, he’s kinda small but I guess you go for petit so he’s definitely your type. When are you gonna ask him out then?”

Bucky’s eyes flicked over to him before returning to Natasha.

“In my own time. Get off my back about it, okay? Both of you.”

“You’re pathetic,” Natasha mused.

“Yes,” Bucky agreed.

They sat in silence for a few seconds, Natasha drumming her fingers on the armrests of her chair before hauling herself upright.

“Nope, I’m sorry – I can’t stand to see you letting life pass you by,” she said before raising her voice to call over to the blond guy. “Hey? Excuse me…?”

Bucky was up like a shot, clamping his right hand over Natasha’s mouth in horror as several people looked up and frowned at them. A quick glance showed that, thankfully, the adorable blond remained oblivious, still concentrating on his sketch.

“The fuck?” Bucky hissed at her.

“I’m sorry, I thought you might have needed a helping hand,” Nat replied after she had prised his hand from her face.

“Well, I don’t,” he said shortly. “I told you – I’ll do it in my own time. I do not need to be embarrassed in front of him any further, thank you very much.”

Natasha shrugged and picked his coffee mug back up, draining it in one go.

“Fine, but if you’re not going to do anything about it today, can we at least go get brunch? I’m fucking starving.”

Bucky sighed and reluctantly agreed, stuffing his things back in his pack before standing and casting a glance back over his shoulder – those keen, bright blue eyes were looking directly at him this time. Bucky gave the guy a small apologetic smile and a minute wave, his stomach doing multiple backflips when the gorgeous blond returned both.

He really did have to do something about this soon.

~

Steve absolutely adored nightclubs.

They were always dark and packed full of people who couldn’t hear a damn thing over the music, so it never mattered that Steve was deaf. Nightclubs were hot and sweaty - everyone just got lost in the beat and even though Steve couldn’t hear it, he could feel it. The music would play, bass turned up loud and it would start under his feet and travel upwards, altering his heart beat to match and left him feeling breathless in the best way.

At first, Steve had only been there for Sam, so that his friend had a wingman and somebody to make sure he got home at the end of the night. After a few weekends though, Steve had found that he really enjoyed it, even if copious alcohol consumption was out of the question with his multiple health problems. He’d even got lucky a few times himself out on the dance floor with some girls and a guy or two, lost in the thrill of being pressed close to another body, of kissing perfect strangers who didn’t care about talking at all.

He leaned against the rail, looking down on the packed dance floor as Sam passed by, hand-in-hand with a stunning brunette.

 _“Okay?”_ Sam signed.

Steve grinned at him.

 _“Great,”_ he signed back, laughing as Sam smiled at him and practically shimmied his way into the throng of dancers.

He loved to watch them, the way their bodies moved – some with perfect rhythm and some who resorted to just throwing themselves around in whichever way felt good, hands in the air, eyes closed, smiles on their faces. Girls danced in pairs or small groups, guys tended to take up a lot of space, couples were glued together with their hands all over each other, every single one of them enjoying the fast beat of the music.

Steve looked up, scanning the dark room and his eyes locked with a pair of very familiar ones, grey-blue in a face with a strong jaw and dimpled chin, framed with dark tendrils escaping a high ponytail. Steve felt a jolt like electricity shoot through him.

~

“I dunno, Natasha. I’m not really in the mood for clubbing,” Bucky said as his friend dragged him along the street in the direction of HYDRA.

“C’mon,” she enthused. “It’s Clint’s set tonight and he always plays decent tunes. Plus, JagerBombs are cheap as fuck in HYDRA – we can get totally smashed!”

Getting smashed really did sound like an excellent plan.

Once again, Bucky had been awakened by his roommate crashing around the apartment at an ungodly hour for a Saturday before being disturbed and horribly embarrassed by Natasha in front of the gorgeous bookstore guy. He’d then spent four hours playing piano for Natasha while she practiced for her upcoming ballet, and quite frankly he was exhausted and ready to go to bed.

“Is it not enough that I’ve let you drag me into every bar on this street over the last couple of hours?” he asked in one last ditch attempt to get out of clubbing.

“No,” Natasha replied cheerfully. “I want to dance, and I want JagerBombs, and you’re too much of a gentleman to make me go in there all by myself.”

Bucky sighed, hating that she was completely correct, and followed her into the club.

Natasha ditched him after five minutes just like Bucky had expected, a JagerBomb in each hand as she danced dirty with some frat boy that she could eat for breakfast. Bucky shook his head and smiled fondly – that kid had no idea what he was getting himself into.

Bucky looked up and over at the DJ booth, catching Clint’s eye and giving him a small wave which was returned, along with an enthusiastic thumbs-up before Bucky’s roommate turned back to the job in hand. Bucky chuckled and turned around to lean on the rail and survey the rest of the club, not actually searching for anything or anyone in particular but he jumped when his eyes fell on a guy over the other side of the dance floor – small, slim, blond. Sky blue eyes, no longer framed by large rimmed glasses locked onto his and for a moment Bucky forgot how to breathe.

~

Steve’s heart beat fast but this time it had nothing to do with the bass line. Hot Ponytail Guy from the bookstore was standing directly opposite him, on the other side of the dance floor. God, but he looked gorgeous in ripped jeans and a dark t-shirt so thin that Steve could almost see the skin underneath.

They stared at each other, frozen under the flashing lights of the nightclub, unwilling to move for fear of breaking the spell. Of all the people in the world, Steve had never expected to see this guy here, yet his brain told him that this was the best of circumstances. There was one definite way for Steve to find out once and for all if Hot Ponytail Guy liked him, and it didn’t require either talking or hearing. Steve found himself moving forward, down onto the floor and weaving through the sea of bodies to get to him, thrilled that the guy’s eyes hadn’t stopped following him.

Steve was never normally this bold, but something about this guy in this nightclub and this exact moment made him hold out his hand and gently grasp cool metal fingers to pull the guy onto the dance floor with him. He’d never been much of a dancer – stuck with two left feet and no rhythm for his whole life, but the beat of the music was fast and pounding, and Steve had discovered a long time ago that you didn’t have to know how to dance to be able to grind.

Steve backed up against the guy’s chest, realising the noticeable difference of height between them for the first time – the top of Steve’s head barely reached the guy’s chin. At first, the guy seemed completely overwhelmed and almost afraid to touch, and that wasn’t the way Steve had wanted this encounter to go at all. Grinding back hard against him, Steve slid one hand down to the back of the guy’s right thigh and his other hand up to the back of his neck.

That was better. That was much, much better because now those hands were on Steve’s body, cool metal raising goosebumps on Steve’s hot skin through his shirt, strong fingers gripping his hip as the guy started to move with Steve and against him. Steve could feel the guy’s heart beat strong against his back, pounding in time to the bass which was still hard, still fast and powerful until suddenly, it gave way and slowed as the tracks changed and left Steve dizzy and breathless and loving every second.

~

Bucky wasn’t entirely sure if it was real or if he was dreaming – the gorgeous blond from the bookstore almost stalking towards him, grasping Bucky’s prosthetic hand firmly and pulling him down amongst the dancers, backing up against him and grinding back hard. Bucky’s brain wasn’t getting enough oxygen – it was all heading south and leaving him completely unable to think until the hot little blond’s beautiful hands landed on him, pulling Bucky in by his thigh and the back of his neck, and then Bucky’s body began to work on instinct.

The fast beat of Martin Garrix’s ‘Animals’ faded seamlessly into the slower, dirtier bass of Beyonce’s ‘Drunk in Love’ and Bucky only had a moment to wonder if Clint had done that on purpose, because then the blond turned his head and Bucky’s breath was knocked from his lungs at the sight of those beautiful eyes, the blue almost completely replaced by the black of blown pupils.

Bucky let his hands wander, feeling jutting hipbones, a concave stomach and prominent ribs under the soft white shirt that glowed brightly under the UV lights of the club. The beat was slow and steady and Bucky was half hard with that stunning little fella grinding back against him, allowing Bucky to move his body in time with the music. Their mouths were so close that Bucky could just lean down and kiss him.

It was like sex with clothes on – Bucky could have been fucking him on that dance floor. He practically was.

The slow bass of ‘Drunk in Love’ faded and the beat kicked up again as a more energetic song began to play. It didn’t take ten seconds before they were being jostled by other dancers and they broke apart, laughing breathlessly. Bucky’s new dance partner looked beautiful when he laughed, eyes bright and skin flushed and dewy under the flashing lights, chest heaving.

“Do you want a drink?” Bucky yelled, not even able to hear his own voice above how loud the music was. He raised his hand to his mouth and tilted it up and down a couple of times – the universal signal for ‘drink’. The blond smiled at him and nodded, indicating to Bucky with his hand that he’d wait for him by the rail at the side of the floor.

~

Steve was grinning to himself as he backed up against the rail to await the return of Hot Ponytail Guy and the drink that Steve was actually rather desperately in need of now. He was breathing heavily, his skin still tingling from having those large strong hands on him, legs feeling decidedly jelly-like. That had been amazing – much better than anything he could have imagined, and Steve was honestly contemplating asking for the guy’s name and number when a large body collided with his.

“HEY!” Steve yelled indignantly, feeling the sound leave his throat as he turned and glared in the direction of a rather drunken guy with the physique of a Quarterback. The larger young man, to his credit, did look apologetic but unfortunately was too wasted to stand upright and promptly barrelled into a group of girls.

Steve didn’t know who threw a punch first, whether it was the drunkard or a boyfriend of one of the ladies, but he suddenly found himself in the middle of a fight, ducking blows and getting his sharp elbows into a stomach or two. Steve felt a pair of strong arms wrap around his waist and then he was being lifted and hauled back from the fray, and dragged kicked and verbally protesting from the nightclub and onto the street.

Sam Wilson dropped him onto the pavement and then grabbed the back of Steve’s shirt as he tried to head back inside. His hands gripped Steve’s shoulders firmly and spun him back around.

_“What do you think you’re doing?”_

_“I need to go back inside,”_ Steve signed frantically.

_“Why?”_

_“Hot Ponytail Guy is in there. He was getting me a drink.”_

Sam’s face softened and he squeezed Steve’s skinny upper arm gently.

 _“I can’t let you go back in,”_ Sam signed. _“You’ll never find him again anyway.”_

Steve sighed heavily and cast a glance back to the nightclub entrance where victims of the brawl were starting to spill out onto the street. The cops would probably turn up soon anyway, and Steve was pretty sure something had caught him on the side of the head because it was stinging. He grimaced and turned back to Sam, allowing his friend to throw and arm around his shoulder and steer him away.

He was really going to have to find a good way of making it up to Hot Ponytail Guy when he saw him the following Saturday at the bookstore.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> August has been horrible. Life has happened, so this chapter got to you much later than I wanted it to. 
> 
> Also, just to give you fair warning, from here on out there will be a lot of conversations going on via text message. I'm trying to write it in the least confusing or abrasive way possible.
> 
> Edit : something fucked up with the text message part after I posted! I hope it's sorted and I'm sorry if that confused anyone!!!

Bucky had been devastated when the fight broke out in HYDRA. He had just reached the bar, realising that he’d never asked his little blond hottie what drink he’d actually wanted, when there was shrill screaming from the dance floor and seconds later, Clint cut the music in the DJ booth. It had been pandemonium in that club, and Bucky had fought his way back through the crowds, half of who were trying to get away and the other half trying to get a better look. He had found Natasha amidst the fray and had pulled her to the side, shielding her from bottles and glasses flying everywhere until they could manage to leave the club.

He’d spent the best part of the week moping around the apartment and getting on Clint’s nerves, desperately willing the time away until Saturday rolled around again and he could go and finally talk to the cute bookstore guy.

The Universe, however, seemed to be against him.

Bucky’s phone rang at six in the morning that Saturday and he picked up the call to his sister, crying hysterically on the other end.

“Bucky, I need you right now!”

He sat upright in bed and immediately threw the covers back, swinging his legs out of the bed.

“Rebecca? What’s happened?”

Bucky jammed the phone between his shoulder and his ear as he reached for a pair of discarded jeans.

Rebecca Barnes was the only relation Bucky had – five years younger than him, she was nineteen and studying at NYU. He had always been the protective older brother and that had awarded Rebecca the luxury of being a slightly irresponsible brat. She could be a pain in the ass, but he loved her more than life.

“My washing machine broke,” his sister sobbed.

He stopped dead and straightened, letting his pants fall to the floor.

“Your washing machine…?” Bucky deadpanned.

“There’s water everywhere, Bucky. My apartment is flooded…”

“Damn it, Becca!” he interrupted her. “You call me in floods of tears and I think you’ve been attacked or arrested or something that’s actually terrible!”

“This is terrible!” his sister cried. “I’m wading through soapy water, my carpets are all ruined! I need you to fix this!”

Bucky sighed and looked at the clock beside his bed. It was still ridiculously early, so he surely had time to get over to Becca’s, fix her washing machine, help her mop up, and still be in time to get to the book store before the cute guy had to leave, right?

“Fine. Gimme a half hour,” he replied, hanging up the call and reaching for his jeans once more.

As he left his apartment, backpack slung over his shoulder, Bucky prayed to all the Gods he knew of that this wouldn’t take him too long.

~

Steve had also been rather miserable for the entire week, often zoning out at work for hours and having to be shaken back into reality by a co-worker. The worst thing was not being able to hide his mood from his mother, who always knew when something was wrong – he had to tell her about seeing Hot Ponytail Guy at HYDRA, although he left out the part where they were grinding hard and dirty in the middle of the dance floor.

In typical Sarah Rogers style, she had told him not to worry, and that he’d see the guy again at the bookstore on Saturday.

Except that Steve had been here for an hour now, and Hot Ponytail Guy was nowhere to be seen.

He tried to focus on drawing, but his eyes kept sliding to the main entrance and staying there as he gnawed nervously on his lower lip. Steve let another thirty minutes pass before texting Sam.

**{He’s not coming.}**

Steve tapped his fingernail on the back of his phone as he waited for his friend to reply. Twenty seconds later, his phone vibrated in his hand.

 **{Sam: Maybe he’s just been held up?}**  

**{Steve: Or maybe I've blown it?}**

He ran his hand through his hair with a sigh. He should have gone back into the club, should have tried to find the guy again and get a phone number or something. Hot Ponytail Guy probably thought Steve had bailed on him. Steve wouldn’t have blamed him for thinking that.

 **{Sam: Why don’t you leave a note or something with the cashier?}**  

Steve glanced down at his phone as it vibrated in his hand again and hastily typed a reply.

**{I don’t think they let you do that unless you buy something.}**

Ten seconds later, the response came.

**{Sam: So buy him something…}**

Steve looked at the time – his mother would be finished her appointment soon and he’d have to leave to meet her. His eyes flickered towards the entrance again, then back to his phone. Finally, he made up his mind, stuffed his sketchbook back in his satchel and headed for the bookshelves.

~

Bucky was a mess – the knees of his jeans were soaked through and he had grease striped across his forehead, his hair falling haphazardly from its tie-back as he raced through the door of the bookstore, stopping dead when he saw that the seat usually occupied by Cute Blond Guy was vacant.

“Fuck…” he groaned, pushing his hair out of his eyes.

“You missed him by about twenty minutes.”

Bucky turned to his left to find the girl at the counter, Connie, was the one talking to him.

“I’m sorry?”

“The blond guy with the sketchbook that you’ve been pining over for like, two months now?” she clarified with a smile. “He left twenty minutes ago.”

“Fuck,” Bucky said again. “Was I that obvious?”

“Oh yeah,” Connie replied.

Bucky cringed. Had everybody in the bookstore realised how pathetic he was, watching him stare longingly at the blond artist for weeks?

“Don’t worry about it though,” she added, reaching underneath the counter and bringing out a book. “He left something for you.”

Bucky blinked as she handed the book over to him, eyes dropping to the cover. It was a black and white picture of a little girl sitting on stone steps, the author’s name, Ian McEwan, in cream type and the book title, Atonement, in red underneath. Bucky flipped it over and read the synopsis – it really didn’t sound like anything he would have read of his own accord, but then again, the only books he’d ever picked up in the last six years were all related to music. He glanced back up at Connie who rolled her eyes at him.

“You are hopeless,” she said fondly. “Open it.”

Bucky turned the front cover and his eyes immediately fell on the neat, precise handwriting on the title page:

_I didn’t bail on you last Saturday night – I was forcibly removed. Hope to see you next week._

Bucky’s heart stopped for a second before kicking back into its beat. He’d spent the whole week wondering if Cute Blond Guy had used the bar brawl as the perfect excuse to get away, if Bucky had done something wrong, or if he just hadn’t been quite as attractive close up. But this – the adorable little artist had been waiting for him.

He found his feet moving towards the guy’s usual table and sat down in his chair, letting his backpack slide to the floor. Bucky didn’t really know why he’d decided to sit there. Maybe it was just the feeling of being a little closer to him – sitting in the blond’s usual spot reading the book he’d bought for Bucky.

It might not have been Bucky’s usual read, but he found that once he’d started, he was riveted. The story was gripping from the start taking Bucky from the early thirties to World War two with characters that you became immediately attached to and deeply emotionally involved with. He stayed in the bookstore for a couple of hours before being rudely pulled away by an annoyed text message from Natasha, claiming that he was late for rehearsal. Bucky remained very distracted throughout the whole afternoon and couldn’t wait for work to be over so that he could curl up on the couch and continue reading.

The couch was exactly where Clint found him later that evening, book in hand and a pile of used tissues on the cushion next to him.

“What the fuck happened to you?” Clint asked, taking in Bucky’s red-rimmed eyes, the grease from the morning’s washing machine debacle still smeared across his forehead and nose dripping in the most unattractive manner.

Bucky hastily wiped the back of his right hand over his face before giving his roommate a weak smile and holding up the book he’d just finished.

“All Robbie wanted was to be with Cecilia. They went through so much and then he…and she…”

He could feel the prickle of tears in the corners of his eyes again as Clint stared at him as though Bucky had two heads.

“Get a fucking grip, Barnes!”

Clint walked carefully towards him and took the book from Bucky’s left hand, studying the cover suspiciously.

“Where the fuck did you get this anyway?”

“Cute Blond Guy bought it for me and left it with Connie – I didn’t make it to the bookstore in time after going to Rebecca’s,” he explained.

Clint’s fair eyebrows shot up.

“So, he didn’t turn and run after all?”

Bucky’s roommate had been less than helpful during the week’s moping period, teasing him relentlessly about being dumped in the middle of a club. Bucky gave Clint a small, satisfied smile and shook his head.

“I guess not.”

Clint made a surprised noise and looked back at the book.

“So, what’s the story about?”

That was how they ended up on the couch together with Lucky, Clint’s latest rescue dog sitting between them whilst Bucky found Atonement on Netflix for them both to watch. By the end, Clint was also in tears.

“That’s fucking bullshit, man!” he said, staring dumbstruck at the tv. “Why didn’t she just tell the fucking truth?”

Bucky shrugged, hiding a smile as Clint stood up and stormed off, tears still streaming down his face as he headed to his room with a muffled “Fuckin’ Briony!”

Bucky chuckled to himself as he gently scratched Lucky behind the ears and got up, carefully replacing the book into his backpack.

~

Steve never really spent all that long getting ready in the morning, even since Hot Ponytail Guy started coming into the bookstore. However, he’d already spent a good ten minutes in front of the bathroom mirror, teasing his hair into some kind of style before he felt his mother’s hand on his shoulder and he whirled around to face her.

 _“Stop fussing,”_ she signed. _“You look fine.”_

 _“I don’t want to look fine,”_ Steve signed back, his fingers all sticky with matte wax. _“I want to look great.”_

Sarah Rogers laughed and stroked her son’s cheek gently. Her fingers were starting to become bony and always cold, but they were still the softest hands Steve had ever felt. It broke his heart to look at her these days, almost a shadow of the beautiful slender woman he’d known for most of his life, ravaged by lung cancer when she’d never even smoked a single cigarette in her life. Even now, his mother was still the strongest person Steve knew, and she always smiled through the pain, head always held high.

 _“Trust me when I tell you,”_ his mother signed, _“He already thinks you’re beautiful.”_

Steve ducked his head to hide the blush that spread across his cheeks, but he grinned all the same. He had been disappointed that Hot Ponytail guy hadn’t turned up the previous week, and Steve had spent yet another seven days worrying, this time about the book he’d left with the clerk. Had the guy just been running late that week? Had the clerk remembered to give him the book? Had the guy even turned up at all? Now that Saturday had rolled around again, Steve was either about to feel validated, or like a complete fucking idiot.

He left his mother at her appointment and headed straight to the bookstore, keeping his head down as he walked past the cash desk to avoid catching Connie’s eye. If Hot Ponytail Guy hadn’t received Steve’s gift, then he’d actually have preferred to remain in the dark about it. Steve made a beeline for the coffee – he’d been coming here so long that the baristas stopped asking for his order and just immediately began to make it the moment that they saw him. He still had the note on his phone just in case though, explaining that he was deaf, that they had to speak clearly so that he could lip read, and that his order was a medium double shot mocha, extra hot, and a lemon poppy seed muffin.

Today however, as Steve finally looked up to hand over his money, he found the barista smiling at him and waving the money away. Steve raised an eyebrow, confused.

“It’s already paid for.”

Steve watched the barista’s lips form the words carefully, and then when the guy pointed over Steve’s shoulder, he found himself turning automatically to look – Hot Ponytail Guy smiled at him from over the other side of the book store.

The world slowed almost to a standstill, Steve’s heart hammering hard in his chest as he smiled back and automatically signed ‘thank you’ to him. The guy bit his bottom lip briefly and nodded, smiling as he ducked his head and moved away to another part of the store, casting a glance over his shoulder.

Steve didn’t move until somebody touched his forearm lightly, bringing him back to the present. The barista smirked at him as he handed Steve his coffee, muffin, and a piece of folded paper and Steve knew he was blushing as he set them down on his usual table and dropped into his seat, forcing himself to take off his messenger bag and his jacket before opening the paper.

It was a note, written on the type of paper usually found for music, with five lines and a clef at the start. The handwriting was messy, even though Steve could tell that it had been deliberately cleaned up and read:

_I loved the book. Hope I got your coffee order right._

Steve grinned like mad, his stomach a mad flurry of butterflies as he rubbed the back of his neck and glanced back over to Hot Ponytail Guy. This was actually happening – they were communicating. The guy had liked the book and he had responded by buying Steve’s coffee. Maybe a phone number wasn’t too far ahead in the future?

~

“Barton!”

Bucky crashed into the apartment, scaring the life out of Lucky who barked at him in shock as Bucky threw his backpack in the direction of the couch. It missed, and fell heavily to the floor as Bucky continued on his way to Clint’s room.

“Barton!” he yelled again, rapping sharply on the door.

When there was no answer, Bucky opened the door and barged in. His roommate was in bed, on his back, and snoring softly, completely oblivious to Bucky’s presence.

“Barton, wake the fuck up!” Bucky said loudly, grasping Clint’s shoulders and shaking him sharply for good measure.

Clint’s eyes flew open, wild and confused and his arms thrashed until he managed to focus on his roommate’s face.

“What the fuck, Barnes?”

“I need you to teach me sign language,” Bucky replied, hands still firmly on Clint’s shoulders.

Barton blinked at him.

“Hold on, I can’t understand a fucking thing you’re saying,” Clint muttered, rolling away and out of Bucky’s grip to lean over and grab the two small hearing aids from the unit beside his bed.

Bucky sat back on the bed, his foot drumming impatiently on the floor as he waited for Clint to sort himself out before turning back.

“Right. What the fuck do you want?”

“I need you to teach me sign language,” Bucky repeated.

“No,” Clint replied shortly and reached up to take his hearing aids out again.

Bucky caught his wrists.

“Clint please. He’s deaf. The cute blond guy at the book store? I pre-paid for his coffee this morning and when he picked it up, he signed ‘thank you’.”

Clint blinked at him slowly.

Bucky had only ever picked up a couple of signs in his time living with Clint – mostly swear words and insults, but also the basics like ‘yes’, ‘no’, ‘please’ and ‘thank you’. He’d almost had a heart attack when he’d recognised the sign from across the bookstore, little things suddenly clicking into place for him.

“He’s deaf,” Clint repeated dully.

“Yes,” said Bucky softly. “Please help me, Clint. I really like this guy.”

Clint sighed heavily and sat up in bed properly.

“Alright. What do you wanna know?”


	5. Chapter 5

Clint signed absolutely everything that he said from that moment on, except if he had pizza in his hand, and then he wouldn’t speak at all until said pizza was eaten, but that wasn’t really anything new to Bucky – Clint loved pizza.

“The thing I don’t get, Barnes,” he said as he watched Bucky pull on his boots the following Saturday morning, “is that we’ve been living together for two years, and you never put this much effort into learning ASL for me.”

Bucky glanced up from tying his laces and grinned.

“Aww, are you jealous baby?”

Clint gave him a withering look and signed a phrase that Bucky already knew very well.

_“Fuck you.”_

“Why, Barton,” Bucky replied innocently, standing up from the couch and picking his backpack up from the floor. “If that’s what you’d wanted all this time, you just had to ask real nice…maybe buy me dinner…”

Bucky shut up as Clint picked up his favourite classical guitar and threatened to throw it across the room.

In all seriousness though, Clint had been an absolute star through the whole week and Bucky had taken full advantage of his roommate’s uncharacteristic helpfulness. Clint had first taught Bucky the alphabet, impressing that any word he didn’t know could be easily spelled out, even if it took a lot longer.

“Your name will be one of them,” Clint had told him. “There is no sign for ‘Bucky’ so you’ll have to spell it. He’ll likely assign you a name sign anyway.”

“A what?” Bucky had asked, confused.

“A name sign,” his roommate repeated. “It’s like a nickname, usually based on a trait or a characteristic unique to you, and it’s a fucking gift, okay? If he gives you a name sign, learn to fucking love it even if it’s ridiculous.”

Bucky had nodded and soaked up the knowledge like a sponge. Instead of working on composition during lunch breaks, he had invested in a couple of ASL books and had read up on conversational signs, and about etiquette, and had even researched the Deaf community in New York so that he could avoid as much as possible appearing to be an audist asshole.

Alright, so part of him did feel pretty guilty about failing to learn sign language for Clint. His roommate had always managed fine with his hearing aids, and as long as you faced him when you spoke, he pretty much never had a problem. Bucky was swiftly realising that it was a poor fucking excuse though. He really should have been making every effort to learn it over the last two years, and honestly, Bucky was surprised that Clint hadn’t called him out on it earlier, much less agreed to teach him with little argument once Bucky actually needed it.

So Saturday found him leaving the apartment after giving his long-suffering roommate a swift hug, and making his way to the bookstore, growing more and more nervous with every step he took. He was there – that adorable blond guy with his huge glasses and skinny jeans, sketchbook balanced on his raised knee, back in his usual seat with a look of deep concentration on his face as those gorgeous slender fingers worked a pencil across the paper. Bucky took a deep breath, ran a hand over his hair to check that it was still neat, and walked towards him.

Bucky was only a few feet away when the blond looked up, sky-blue eyes widening behind the large-rimmed glasses. The guy quickly set his sketchbook on the table, placing the pencil on top of it before removing his glasses and standing up to face him. Christ, but he was beautiful close up, the top of his blond head barely reaching the height of Bucky’s chin, his dark eyelashes so damned long and that full mouth looking so soft and kissable, lips parted slightly as he looked expectantly at Bucky.

His brain shorted out for a second before Bucky thankfully realised that he was supposed to be making the first move here. His memory called up all the lessons he’d had from Clint, what he’d read in the books, what he’s watched on the ASL app that he’d downloaded on his phone and signed hello. It was a little like a military salute. Bucky’s heart leapt at the smile that spread across the blond’s face – it was like sunshine from behind a cloud, beautiful and radiant.

_“Hi,”_ the guy signed back.

Bucky couldn’t stop himself from grinning back before signing his reply.

_“My name is…B-U-C-K-Y”_

_“I’m Steve,”_ the blond signed, smiling so happily at him that Bucky thought he’d melt.

Steve. God, finally Bucky had a name to go with this angel. He couldn’t wait to tell Natasha. Or Clint.

They looked at each other, both just grinning like idiots before the blond, Steve, gave a small laugh and glanced away, rubbing the back of his neck gently. Bucky felt his heart quicken when Steve looked at him again, sky-blue gaze fixed on him through gorgeous dark lashes.

_“I was wondering if you would like to go out with me some time?”_ Bucky signed.

Steve nodded, his hand closing into a fist and moving up and down from the wrist.

_“Yes.”_

The laugh was past Bucky’s lips before he even knew it. There was absolutely no way that he could stop smiling now.

_“Would you like my phone number?”_ Steve asked him.

_“That would be…”_ Bucky began, faltering because he wasn’t sure of the right sign. Clint had told him to spell what he didn’t know, so he called up his new knowledge of the ASL alphabet to spell, _“nice.”_

The blond then broke down in the most adorable fit of barely-audible giggles Bucky had ever seen, clamping both hands over his mouth to stifle the sounds. Just when Bucky was starting to feel a little bit self-conscious, Steve removed his hands from his mouth, reached up and took Bucky’s hand in his own, arranging first two fingers over his thumb. Steve picked up his pencil and scribbled an “N” on the pad of paper next to the sketch he was working on. Then, he took Bucky’s hand and gently added his ring finger to rest beside the other two and scribbled an “M” and he drew a tiny animal with a long tail and whiskers…

Oh. Mice. Bucky had signed ‘mice’.

He started laughing, both hands flying to his face to cover the blush that immediately rose to his cheeks, peeking out from between his fingers. Steve smiled and touched the back of his flesh hand gently – his hands were warm and soft and surprising large. Bucky thought that he could easily get used to his touch.

When Bucky finally dropped his hands again, Steve was holding out his phone for him, still smiling. It took less than a minute for them to program in each other’s numbers and take a quick selfie to accompany them before swapping them back, fingers brushing lightly at the exchange.

_“I’ll text you,”_ Bucky signed, after slipping his phone back into his pocket.

_“Okay,”_ replied Steve, giving Bucky another one of those astoundingly beautiful smiles.

Bucky grinned and turned to leave, but Steve caught his left hand, his prosthetic hand, and tugged gently before letting go and drawing the flat palm of his right hand over his left.

“Nice,” Steve said aloud.

Bucky inhaled sharply – the word wasn’t formed the way Bucky would have said it, but that wasn’t what took his breath away. It was the sound of Steve’s voice was what did that, so deep for such a small person. He was in love with it immediately.

He managed to nod and smile and began to walk away when he heard the sound of applause from two different directions – the barista and Connie, the store clerk were both clapping and grinning. The barista wolf-whistled.

“Finally!” called Connie as he passed, her face spread wide into a happy grin.

Bucky ducked his head, feeling his cheeks heat up as he walked on past her, only lifting his head again when he got to the door to glance over his shoulder – Steve was still watching him, and he gave a small wave.

Nothing could dampen Bucky’s mood today.

~

Steve had to bite down hard on his knuckle to stop himself from squealing aloud. The Hot Ponytail Guy had asked him out. The Hot Ponytail Guy had learned sign language and asked him out. The Hot Ponytail Guy actually had a name, so Steve was going to have to stop referring to him as Hot Ponytail Guy.

Breathless, he sat back down in his seat and glanced at his sketchbook with the tiny drawing of a mouse on the corner, and he started to grin again. That had been the cutest thing Steve had ever witnessed, and he’d tried so hard not to laugh when Bucky had signed the wrong letter. The fact that Bucky had signed as much as he did impressed Steve greatly and made him feel warm from head to toe.

He was practically skipping when he met his mother an hour later.

_“What has you in such a good mood?”_ she signed, raising her brow.

Steve just beamed and waved his phone in front of her face, open at the phone book where Bucky’s name, number and picture resided.

_“Is this him?”_ Sarah Rogers signed.

Steve nodded, biting his lip through a smile as he put his phone away.

_“And?”_

_“He’s going to text me later,”_ Steve replied.

_“Good,”_ his mother replied, smiling.

Steve laughed aloud. God, he felt giddy! He couldn’t quite remember ever feeling this way before – the light-headed, bright light dizziness that he often got in the middle of an asthma attack, but he could breathe just fine and his happiness switch had just been turned to maximum. His mother wrapped a bony arm around Steve’s sharp shoulder and gave him a squeeze, pressing a kiss to his cheek. He smiled at her.

_“He learned to sign so that he could speak to me,”_ Steve told her, still not quite believing it.

Sarah Rogers smiled warmly.

_“See? I told you. You’re worth it.”_

Steve shook his head fondly as he linked his arm with hers and hailed a cab. He’d still never be sure that he was worth it, but he was still incredibly glad.

~

Steve was in his studio, finishing up the last bits on a large piece of artwork when his phone vibrated in his jeans pocket. He put down his stick of charcoal and wiped the residue from his hand with a cloth before digging into his pocket and fishing out his phone. Seeing the same on the screen immediately made him smile.

**{ Bucky: So, I’m really hoping you didn’t give me a fake number otherwise this is going to be awkward. }**

Steve’s fingers flew quickly across the keys, a product of many years texting practice

**{ Steve: I’m sorry, who is this? ;-) }**

**{ Bucky: Aww man, I knew it was too good to be true…}**

Steve grinned at the phone as he lowered himself onto the mattress that sat on the floor of his studio and typed a reply.

**{ Steve: Haha, just kidding. I couldn’t give you a fake number just because you can’t spell ‘nice’… }**

**{ Steve: That was adorable, by the way. }** he added quickly.

He watched the little ‘typing’ icon at the bottom of the screen, gnawing on his lower lip as he anticipated the response.

**{ Bucky: Haha, I am glad my inferior signing skills amuse you. It might have been worth the embarrassment to make you laugh. }**

Steve squirmed in delight, rolling over onto his back as he read the text over and over again.

**{ Steve: You aren’t learning to sign just so you could talk to me, are you? }**

**{ Bucky: Maybe I am ;) }**

**{ Steve: That is…really flattering actually. And adorable. Have I mentioned that you are pretty adorable? }**

Steve hit send and then immediately regretted it. That was probably too much too early, and Steve probably sounded like an idiot. Swiftly, he typed something else to try and detract attention from it.

**{ Steve: Since you went to so much trouble to talk to me, maybe I can take you out? I mean…if you want to. }**

The reply was almost immediate and it sent butterflies scattering to all corners of his stomach again.

**{ Bucky: Yes! I would love that! }**

**{ Steve: I would ask you for coffee but I think it might be fun to meet outside of the bookstore. }**

**{ Bucky: I agree. Do you have anywhere in mind? }**

Steve thought for a moment, index finger tapping gently against the side of the phone. Movies were out of the question and Steve honestly didn’t have the spare cash to shell out for dinner. Biting his lower lip again, he threw out a suggestion.

**{ Steve: How about the Met? }**

He didn’t have to wait ten seconds before getting a reply.

**{ Bucky: Dessert afterward? }**

**{ Steve: Dessert, huh? That sounds kind of serious. Only if we can go to Lady M! }**

**{ Bucky: You read my mind. :) }**

Steve felt a joyful chuckle bubble up through his chest and he ran a hand over his face and up into his hair, tugging gently at it just to test that he was definitely awake with the pull against his scalp. Smiling, he typed his reply.

**{ Steve: It’s a date :-) }**

~

In his bedroom, Bucky Barnes punched the air.

“Fuck yes!” he said aloud to the empty room.

He had a date. What’s more, Steve wasn’t only gorgeous – he was funny and absolutely cute as hell. And he thought Bucky was adorable. And he liked dessert.

Bucky let out a contented sigh and slipped from his bed, crossing to the bedroom door and pulling it open before padding through the apartment.

Clint was in the kitchen heating up pasta sauce and, grinning like an idiot, Bucky called to him.

“I got a date!”

His roommate glanced over his shoulder briefly before going back to heating up his dinner.

“Great,” he replied dryly. “What do you want? A cookie?”

Bucky laughed and padded up behind him, wrapping his arms around his roommate’s chest and giving him a gentle squeeze. Clint just about leaped from his skin.

“What the fuck, Barnes?”

Bucky held on and rested his cheek gently against the worn t-shirt against Clint’s shoulder.

“Thank you,” he murmured.

Clint relaxed and awkwardly patted Bucky’s forearm. Bucky didn’t have to see his face to know that Clint was grinning as he replied.

“You’re welcome. Now quit huggin’ me, Cyborg, and let me heat up my dinner in peace.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oh god, this was a tough chapter to write. There are so many methods of communication that it's frying my brain, so I really hope I did alright!

_“So, I’m actually impressed,”_ Sam told Steve the following day over lunch.

_“With what?”_

_“The fact that he actually asked you out.”_

Steve smiled smugly.

 _“He learned to sign just for me too,”_ he replied.

 _“Yes, you’re very special,”_ Sam signed back with a smirk.

 _“Screw you,”_ Steve signed forcefully, but he was grinning all the same.

He hadn’t quite come down from the high of Bucky asking him out, or from the brief text conversation they’d had the evening before. Bucky was cute and funny and had the most beautiful smile. And they were going on a date, which was exciting yet terrifying because Steve just had no idea how to play this – the last time he’d attempted a date with a hearing person had been frustrating and generally a complete disaster. He hoped with every fibre of his soul that his date with Bucky would be different.

 _“When do I get to meet him?”_ asked Sam, nudging Steve’s shoulder gently.

Steve snorted.

_“Can I get a couple of dates in first?”_

_“Maybe,”_ signed Sam. _“But I should really check that he’s good enough for you.”_

Steve smiled warmly at his friend.

 _“He is,”_ Steve replied.

He was pretty sure of it anyway, because nobody else in Steve’s life had picked up on the fact the he was Deaf and had promptly learned to sign enough in the space of a week just to talk specifically to him. That had to be something special, right?

Steve wasn’t supposed to have his phone on him at work, but he couldn’t help wandering around with it in his pocket all day Monday, hoping to get a text from Bucky at some point. He was bound to get caught with the rate he kept checking it. Of course, Bucky had text him first, so maybe it was Steve’s turn to take the leap?

Somewhere around mid afternoon, he quietly slipped away from his workstation and headed out into the main building of the Metropolitan Museum of Art, looking for a quiet corner from which to send a message. Steve finally stopped by one of the Greek Nudes and tucked himself into the wall next to it, taking out his phone and proceeding to stare at it for a good minute. Now that he was here, he had no idea what to say.

He glanced to the side, his eyes falling on the Greek statue to his right and he was struck by an idea. Angling himself slightly so that the Nude was directly behind him, he raised his phone to face-height and quirked an eyebrow before taking the snapshot. He sent it to Bucky with the caption ‘Finding my own entertainment at work’, and leaned back against the wall to await a response. Steve had about five minutes before he’d be missed by his boss.

He didn’t have to wait long.

**{ Bucky: Wait a minute? Isn’t that the Met? You WORK at the Met? }**

**{ Steve: Good to know that you notice the venue rather than the dick in the background…}**

Steve smirked as he typed the reply and snorted softly as his phone vibrated in his hand a couple of seconds later with Bucky’s response.

**{ Bucky: Well, Greek Nudes are renowned for their very small penises, so it was kinda hard to see. Plus, I was distracted by the good-looking fella in the foreground. }**

Steve’s message alert went off almost immediately again and he looked at his phone screen to see that Bucky had sent a picture back.

Bucky was surrounded by music score sheets and he had his head laying sideways on his arm. His hair was still back in his usual ponytail but several dark strands had apparently escaped to lie across his face. His eyes looked tired but he had a gorgeous smirk on his pouty lips. Steve’s heart beat a little bit faster, unable to stop the thought entering his head of how that gorgeous mouth would feel against his own.

Steve bit his bottom lip gently as he stared at it, realising that he needed to type some kind of response.

 **{ Steve: So, I take it that you’re involved with music? }** he asked, trying to keep as cool and casual as possible.

**{ Bucky: Something like that. I’m doing my masters in composition at Juiliard. }**

A couple of seconds later, another message followed.

**{ Bucky: Pretty please tell me that you’re the Curator of Marble Penises, because that might make my day. }**

Steve grinned.

**{ Steve: Busted. I spend my day around tiny marble dicks. }**

**{ Bucky: I could find soooo many inappropriate responses to that. Must…resist…. }**

**{ Steve: As Curator of Marble Penises, I feel it necessary to warn you that resisting anything for too long is bad for your health. }**

**{ Bucky: Then I guess I should stop resisting the urge to tell you how gorgeous your big blue eyes are and how much I am looking forward to our date. }**

Steve spun in a quick little joyful circle, catching the eye of some passing tourists. He hid his phone behind his back and smiled professionally at them until they were out of sight and then quickly pulled his phone back out.

**{ Steve: I am really looking forward to it too, Bucky. I’ve been waiting two months to get to know you better and I can’t wait to start. }**

This was flirting, right? Steve was definitely flirting and Bucky was flirting right on back without skipping a beat. It was pretty much effortless. Was it supposed to be this easy?

His phone vibrated again.

**{ Bucky: Although you DO know it’s kinda cheating to take a guy on a date to the place where you work, don’t you? }**

Steve chuckled quietly as he typed his reply.

**{ Steve: I thought I could show you all the marble penises that I have stashed in the back room. }**

Once again, Steve regretted it the instant he hit ‘send’. That had been far too suggestive to send to a guy that he wasn’t really even dating yet. What the hell was the matter with him? Nervously, he tapped his finger against the edge of the phone as he waited for a response.

**{ Bucky: Maybe I should be glad you don’t work at a hospital…}**

Steve laughed out loud, relieved that he wasn’t the King of Inappropriate Responses this time around.

**{ Steve: Oh gross, Bucky! Too far, too far! XD }**

Bucky sent back a winking emoji and Steve sighed happily, smiling to himself until he noticed the time.

**{ Steve: I have to get back to work :( }**

**{ Bucky: Boo! No fair! The lure of the marble penises is too strong against my trash hobo charm !}**

Steve laughed aloud again, for once not even caring if he was disturbing any of the patrons. He bit down on his thumbnail briefly before typing a one-handed reply.

**{ Steve: Maybe you can win me back later? }**

His heart skipped a beat when he read the response Bucky sent him a few seconds after.

**{ Bucky: Good Sir, I look forward to the challenge of winning you any way I can. }**

~

Natasha kicked Bucky’s ass in Krav Maga every single week. The ballerina looked all small and delicate but time and time again, she would take Bucky down with practiced ease despite the fact that he was taller and much heavier, especially with an arm made of titanium. He couldn’t say that he didn’t enjoy it though – he’d never quite been able to get over the thrill of being pinned to the floor by Natasha Romanoff.

He rubbed a tender spot on his shoulder as Nat let his hands free and slid away with a satisfied smirk, walking away to get her bottle of water.

“So, have you actually talked at all since you asked the little blond hottie out?” she asked, uncapping the bottle and taking a very long drink.

“Yeah, we’ve had a couple of conversations over text,” Bucky replied, dabbing at his sweat-damp brow with a towel.

“And?”

“And what?”

“Well, what did you find out about him? What does he do? Is he an artist or does he just like to sketch in his free time?” Nat enquired, passing Bucky the bottle of water.

“He works at the Met…”

“As…?”

Bucky looked at the floor.

“I didn’t actually ask,” he mumbled to his bare feet.

Natasha rolled her eyes.

“Oh my god. For such a smart person, you can sometimes be incredibly dumb, James Barnes. What the hell did you talk about?”

Bucky shrugged and handed the bottle of water back to Nat without actually having drank anything first.

“Well, we’ve mostly been flirting and talking about penises, to be honest.”

“YOU’VE BEEN SEXTING?” Natasha said, her words echoing loudly through the gym and causing almost every person there to stop and turn to stare at them both.

Bucky flushed pink.

“No!” he hissed.

Bucky put down his towel and dug into his backpack for his phone, hurriedly showing Natasha the text message conversation he’d had with Steve earlier that day. Once she’d finished, Nat rolled her eyes at him again as she passed the phone back.

“Okay, but you really can’t go on a first date with somebody without knowing a little more about them,” she said. “You gotta at least ask his last name, find out what his job is, his favourite food…”

“Alright, alright!” Bucky replied, stashing his phone back and walking back out into their gym space. “I’ll do it if you quit hounding me. Now, I bet you a slice of your favourite pizza that you can’t knock me on my ass this time.”

Natasha grinned wickedly at him as they squared off against each other.

“Then get ready to pay up, Barnes.”

Ten seconds later, Bucky found himself flat on his back with Natasha’s thighs wrapped around his neck, almost tight enough to cut off his air supply. Pizza was on him tonight.

~

Over the next couple of days, Bucky found himself exchanging snapshots of his daily life with Steve. On Tuesday, Steve sent him a five-second video of himself signing ‘good morning’ and Bucky responded with a photo of him kissing his giant double mocha at eight in the morning on his way to class. The next day Steve sent him a picture of the tiny mouse that he’d hastily drawn that day at the bookstore and Bucky responded with a picture of ‘Atonement’, the book already looking well-read.

By Thursday, Natasha was back on Bucky’s case about actually asking Steve some questions about himself, and so he waited until the late evening, took a deep breath and sent an actual text message to Steve’s number.

**{ Bucky: So, how are the marble penises? }**

He placed the phone next to him on the bed and picked up a school book with the intent of waiting patiently for a response. He didn’t get the chance – his phone message alert went off almost immediately.

**{ Steve: Still in situ – I don’t often bring them home with me ;-) }**

Bucky laughed and typed a response.

**{ Bucky: So I have you all to myself? No penises to contend with? }**

**{ Steve: Nope. I’m footloose and marble penis-free! }**

Bucky laughed even harder. God, but this kid was sharp and quick-witted as hell.

**{ Bucky: On that note, you’re not really Curator of Marble Penises, are you? }**

**{ Steve: Nope. I’m an Archivist, but it’d pretty much the same thing ;-) }**

There you go Natasha, Bucky thought. He’s an Archivist at the Metropolitan Museum of Art. 

Bucky’s phone beeped again.

**{ Steve: What’s it like doing Composition at Juilliard? }**

**{ Bucky: Much easier with two working arms! }**

They exchanged messages for hours, each one giving Bucky a little more insight into the gorgeous little blond’s life. Bucky always felt a little self conscious talking about himself, and apart from the little joke about his arm, he avoided all other mentions of it for the time being. He did, however, let Steve know about his love for music that had started as far back as learning to crawl, but preferred to know more about Steve himself.

Steve had done his fine arts degree at NYU and had been fully ready to launch into a career as a full time, freelance artist, but then his mother had been diagnosed with cancer and Steve had put his dream on the back-burner and got a ‘proper’ job to help pay for her medical bills.

**{ Steve: I don’t mind really. She worked her butt off for years to pay for mine, so it’s the least I can do. }**

In the privacy of his own room, Bucky shook his head in wonder.

**{ Bucky: So is that why you’re in the bookshop at the same time every week? Because your mom goes to the hospital? }**

**{ Steve: Yeah. I fell in love with the smell of the place. You can’t beat the scent of new books and fresh coffee. }**

Bucky grinned. He’d actually never thought of it before now, never stopped to notice how the book store smelled. He would have to go back at some point. Bucky’s phone beeped again.

**{ Steve: Is there any particular reason why you ended up in the bookstore at the same time every week? ;-) }**

**{ Bucky: Yeah, my roommate is a noisy asshole who won’t let me sleep in on Saturday mornings. Plus, there was this guy I kept seeing who was kinda cute… }**

**{ Steve: Anyone I’d know? }**

**{ Bucky: I dunno – know any blond artists who work at the Met? }**

**{ Steve: Yeah, they’re all losers. }**

Bucky laughed again and stared at his phone screen, gnawing on his bottom lip. It was starting to get late and Bucky was absolutely not at his best at early Friday morning workshops in the first place. He was going to have to say goodbye for the night.

**{ Bucky: I’m gonna be a zombie in the morning if I don’t go to sleep soon :( }**

**{ Steve: Okay :) }**

A few seconds later, Bucky received a picture message – Steve in a white t-shirt with his blond hair gold and shining against a dark pillow, smiling at him. Bucky’s heart thumped hard in his chest as Steve sent him one last text.

**{ Steve: Goodnight x }**

**{ Bucky: G’night, gorgeous x }**

He sighed happily as he put his phone on to charge up and turned off his light, turning over and burying his smile into his pillow. He just had to make it through one more day before he could see Steve again.

~

Steve had barely been able to sleep on Friday night, but it didn’t prevent him from running on nervous energy throughout the whole of Saturday. He’d never been the type to put too much thought into what he wore, mostly just recycling the same combination of jeans, shirts and sweaters that would keep him warm enough in the chill autumn air. That Saturday morning however, Steve had gone through at least four changes of clothes before his mother told him off for being so fussy and he settled on a dark sweater with a lighter shirt under it, his favourite jeans and the usual Converse. He’d also given his hair much consideration before deciding to leave it au natural, allowing it to flop forwards onto his forehead in what he hoped was an endearing manner.

He’d seen his mother to her appointment and then headed into Manhattan, practically vibrating with excitement and apprehension in equal measure. Sam had told him that he should calm down – it’s not like Steve didn’t know anything about Bucky at all, and it definitely wasn’t as though this date was a half-hearted attempt. True, the Met had been the first destination that had come to mind but Bucky was an artist too – alright, so maybe it was a different discipline, but he could surely appreciate the Fine Arts, right?

Steve’s feet abruptly came to a halt when he saw that Bucky was already there, waiting for him in front of the entrance to the Met and looking stunning as always. Bucky had described himself earlier in the week as ‘trash hobo’ and Steve had laughed at it, because over the last few weeks, he’d seen Bucky turn up wearing ripped jeans in various stages of distress and no less than four different leather jackets which, although could be described as scruffy, suited him so perfectly.

Today, however, Steve felt all the air leave his lungs at the sight before him – Bucky’s hair was all neatly smoothed back into his ponytail with only a couple of errant strands escaping to fall around his face and the base of his neck. The rest of him looked smart as hell too – his jeans looked brand new, normally dull boots laced all the way up and shining and instead of a leather jacket, he was wearing a dark pea coat.

When Steve remembered to breathe again, he realised his chest was tight and he dug his inhaler from his pocket, shaking it fiercely before taking two puffs in quick succession. By the marvels of modern medicine, the vice on his lungs loosened pretty much immediately and Steve inhaled deeply before striding up to the doors of the Met.

Bucky’s smile when he saw Steve was like sunshine, warming him against the autumn chill.

 _“Hi,”_ Bucky signed, his lips moving to form the word as he did.

Steve stopped dead no more than a foot from him and smiled shyly. Bucky spoke as he signed, just like Steve’s mother had done all of his life; just like Sam did. He honestly liked it.

 _“Hi,”_ he responded.

Bucky’s smile widened and Steve found himself matching it as they looked at each other for a moment. Steve had no idea what the proper etiquette was in these situations. The last person he’d dated was a woman and Steve remembered leaning in to give her the smallest peck on the cheek when they’d met up. He wasn’t entirely sure that the same gesture was acceptable when meeting a guy six inches taller and twice as broad, though.

 _“You look great,”_ Bucky signed hesitantly.

_“Thank you.”_

Steve smiled, glad that he talked using his hands, because he would have had no idea what to do with them at this point otherwise. He would have probably stuffed them into his pockets or something.

 _“Do you want to go in?”_ he signed before gesturing in the direction of the building.

Bucky’s face lit up.

_“Okay.”_

~

Bucky liked art for the most part.

He was by no means an expert – he couldn’t tell a Caravaggio from a Cavallino, but he could at least judge them in terms of interesting, beautiful, and often downright appalling. But whereas Steve was enthralled by the artwork, Bucky was enthralled by Steve.

He could barely tear his eyes from the blond as they wandered around the museum, going from one exhibit to another. After ten minutes Bucky stopped paying any attention to the paintings and sculptures around him and focussed on Steve’s reactions to them instead, the way his eyes lit up and his breath seemed to quicken over a particular piece. Bucky had always found beauty in people, always inspired to compose by what he felt by watching them – he could write an entire suite about Steve.

Bucky watched as Steve’s eyes poured over the Matisse painting “Young Sailor II” as if he wanted to climb into it and ask the subject questions. His long slender fingers gently brushed the air in front of a tapestry called “The Unicorn is Found” as if he longed to touch the delicate fabric. Steve smiled and rocked up onto his toes and back to his heels in front of a Picasso painting featuring a man at a table. Bucky felt light-headed from watching him, and from seeing the excitement and the wonder that displayed so evident and unbound on Steve’s face.

He’d been concerned all week that he’d fail so miserably at communicating, that he wasn’t able to learn to sign quick enough to hold a half-decent conversation. But right at that moment, Bucky realised that even though the hearing barrier was evident, they didn’t need many words and signs to communicate with each other. Steve’s face was telling him everything he needed and could ever want to know.

Bucky’s heart leapt as Steve suddenly turned to him, giving Bucky the most blindingly beautiful smile and grabbing Bucky by the hand. He allowed Steve to pull him to a gorgeously detailed painting by Raphael and his stomach turned to butterflies when they stopped and Steve didn’t let go. Bucky didn’t dare move, feeling the warmth of Steve’s hand in his own and afraid that it would stop if he drew attention to it. So he just stood, surrounded by masterpieces, holding Steve’s hand for the first time and hoping beyond all hope that he’d get many other chances to do it.

~

They left the Met when Steve’s stomach started grumbling, obviously reaching a volume that set Bucky off laughing and patted it gently.

 _“Food?”_ Bucky signed.

Steve nodded enthusiastically. They had decided on Lady M’s much earlier in the week and just the thought of it made Steve’s mouth water. The place was on Madison Avenue and was a palace of pastries and sweets. He linked his fingers through Bucky’s as they walked towards it.

Back at the Met, Steve had taken Bucky’s right hand in a moment of boldness and held on. He would have let go the second Bucky had shown any signs of being uncomfortable with it, but to Steve’s utmost delight, Bucky hadn’t let go even for a second. His hand was warm and solid, smooth palms but with the tiny bumps on his fingers from hundreds of paper cuts – Steve knew them well.

Unfortunately, Steve had to release Bucky’s hand in order to talk.

 _“What do you want?”_ he signed, gesturing to the display counter when they got to Lady M.

Bucky grinned and pointed immediately to the rows upon rows of brightly coloured Macarons to their left.

“Those are my favourites,” Bucky replied aloud, his mouth forming the words slowly and carefully so that Steve could catch each one.

 _“Mine too,”_ Steve signed with a smile.

For ease, he stepped back and let Bucky order an assortment for take-out, only stepping it at the last moment in order to pay for them, and they took their box of confectionery to the Park where Steve immediately led Bucky to his favourite spot. The bench Steve favoured was under a large tree, its leaves already starting to dull and turn crisp, and next to a fountain that always got clogged at this time of year with leaves and with apple blossom in the spring, and turned to glassy ice in winter.

They sat and split the box, biting into a multitude of flavours, soft meringue melting on the tongue and smooth, sweet ganache so delicious that Steve almost moaned. All too soon, they were down to the last one and Steve eyed the macaron hungrily, his sweet tooth not quite sated. He watched as Bucky picked it up and held it out to him, guiding the macaron towards Steve’s lips. Smiling, Steve leaned forward and his mouth dropped open…only to have Bucky change his mind at the last minute and swiftly deposit the entire pastry into his own mouth.

Steve gaped at him, scandalised, and had to exert all his will not to grin when Bucky almost fell off the park bench with laughing so much.

 _“That’s it,”_ he signed. _“We’re through.”_

He slipped off the park bench quickly and began to walk away, only getting five steps before Bucky caught up with him, making a grab for Steve’s hand and dragging him to a halt. When Steve turned to face him, Bucky was wearing a look of sheer panic and guilt that Steve couldn’t stop himself from bursting into a fit of giggles.

“I’m joking,” Steve said aloud and watched relief flood Bucky’s features.

“You brat!”

Steve beamed innocently at him while Bucky shook his head in disbelief, smiling as he reached up to brush an errant strand of hair from Steve’s face…and promptly got it caught in one of the joints of his prosthetic metal hand.

“Ow…”

Bucky looked mortified, his cheeks flushing a deep pink as he tried desperately to disentangle himself from Steve’s hair and only succeeded in yanking hard against Steve’s scalp.

Steve on the other hand couldn’t stop laughing, for as much as it hurt, Bucky was so damned adorable when he was horribly embarrassed and flustered, lips moving fast in what could only be apologies and curses. Steve reached up and put his own hands over Bucky’s to still them, and once the pull on his hair ceased, he could work to disentangle himself.

He glanced up through his eyelashes to find Bucky looking at him with concern.

“I guess you’re stuck with me now,” Bucky said.

Steve smiled as the strand of hair finally pulled free and Bucky’s left hand slid heavily from his head.

 _“Sorry,”_ signed Bucky as soon as he had control of both hands, his cheeks still slightly pink.

 _“I don’t mind,”_ Steve replied and stood on tiptoe to place a small kiss on Bucky’s jaw.

And the truth was, Steve didn’t think he would have minded at all being stuck with Bucky. However, his phone went off in his pocket and Steve grimaced as he realised that his date had ended for the day. He briefly showed Bucky the phone screen with his mother’s message and shrugged apologetically.

 _“I have to go,”_ he signed.

“Did I mess up my chances for another date?” Bucky asked, half-signing as he spoke.

Steve almost choked in surprise.

 _“No!”_ he signed fiercely.

How could Bucky have possibly thought that? Steve had had the best date ever…even if his hair had just been caught in a metal finger joint.

 _“I had fun,”_ Steve continued. _“And you are A-D-O-R-A-B-L-E!”_

He watched as Bucky laughed and rubbed the back of his neck bashfully, smiling at him before turning to walk in the direction of the hospital. He’d not even made it ten steps before his phone vibrated again and he looked at the screen to see Bucky’s name flash up.

**{ Will you go on another date with me? }**

Steve’s heart sped up as he turned back to see Bucky watching him hopefully.

 _“YES!”_ he signed back enthusiastically, beaming as Bucky’s face lit up like a kid at Christmas.

He blew Bucky a kiss and laughed as Bucky mimed jumping up in the air to catch it and put it in his pocket, before turning and walking away in the opposite direction.

Steve Rogers had no idea how he ever got so lucky as to even get one date with a guy as gorgeous and sweet as hell as Bucky was, but he now had a second to look forward to. He felt like he was walking on air for the rest of the day.


	7. Chapter 7

Bucky was up with the dawn on Sunday morning, waking with the burning desire to sit at his beat up old piano and compose. Clint was still out as far as he was aware – he hadn’t heard any loud crashes or swearing in the early hours of the morning, so Bucky presumed that he could sit and tickle the ivories in peace.

It was a bright morning, the crisp autumn sunshine streaming in through the high windows of the apartment, casting small shadows where the furniture blocked the light and warming up the hard wood floorboards. Lucky, Clint’s latest rescued stray, stretched out in the warm sun beside the piano, barely lifting her head when Bucky sat down and ran his fingers gently over the keys.

He imagined what Steve would look like in this light, how that straw-blond hair would look like spun gold under the sun, how those blue eyes could match the exact same shade as the clear sky. Bucky pictured the way Steve threw his head back when he laughed, exposing the long line of throat the Bucky desperately wanted to press his lips against, and those beautiful long-fingered hands that he had fallen instantly in love with before he’d even seen Steve’s face, how expressive they were. 

All the while, Bucky’s fingers moved over the ivory and black keys, producing a melody that started slow and sweet and gentle, but grew up and into something strong and bright that made his heart soar. It was Steve – the way that blond artist made Bucky feel, the emotions he sparked, made the music come to life beneath Bucky’s fingers. 

He exhaled slowly when his fingers suddenly stopped, the last note still hanging strong in the air.

“That was beautiful,” said a familiar voice behind him

Bucky spun around to find Clint standing just inside the front door, a slice of cold pizza in his hand and look of confusion on his face.

“Uh...thanks,” Bucky replied, hands dropping to rest uselessly in his lap. 

Clint’s usual reaction to Bucky’s piano playing was to crash loudly through the apartment before playing very loud techno music to drown out whatever classical piece Bucky might be trying out. Safe to say, he wasn’t at all used to Clint saying anything positive.

“What was that?” Clint asked.

Bucky rubbed the back of his neck.

“Nothing really. Just something off the top of my head.”

Clint raised his eyebrows as he walked fully into the apartment and closed the front door behind him, the sound causing Lucky to finally awaken from her slumber and patter over to him sleepily. Clint scratched the dog behind her ear gently.

“You wrote that?”

“Well, nothing is actually written down yet,” Bucky explained, glancing at his blank manuscript paper. “But yeah.”

Clint snorted softly and took a bite of pizza.

“You’re good,” he said around the mouthful.

“Thanks,” Bucky grinned. “You would have known that before now if you’d actually stopped trying to drown it out with your own music!”

“Well, everything else you played was kinda sharp,” Clint replied. “It reminded me of Natasha.”

“Probably because most of it was written about Natasha.”

“Well then I’m glad you’ve found another muse,” said Clint with a grin as he finished off his pizza and headed in the direction of his room, calling over his shoulder, “because I don’t feel like ripping out my hearing aids the second you start playing!”

Bucky laughed and turned back to the piano as he heard the shower start to run. His hand moved to pick up his pencil but at the last moment he changed his mind and picked up his phone instead, turning on the camera and taking a picture of himself with the piano keys in full view. Then he sent it to Steve, and picked up his pencil.

After a few moments of jotting down what he had just played, his phone message tone went off again, alerting him to a picture message from Steve. Christ, but he looked gorgeous, blond hair all mussed up against his pillow and those blue eyes still hazy with sleep.

**{ Steve: Good morning x }**

**{ Bucky: I didn’t wake you, did I? }**

**{ Steve: I wouldn’t have minded if you had! But no, I was waking up anyway. I smell bacon! }**

Bucky smiled as he got up from the piano and padded across the living room to flop onto the couch. 

**{ Bucky: God, bacon sounds awesome right about now! }**

**{ Steve: Come over, and have breakfast then ;-) }**

Bucky bit his lip as his stomach turned to butterflies again. Breakfast with that blond cutie-pie would have been heaven and he was sorely tempted to run out of the apartment in his underwear to go do it.

**{ Bucky: You mean there would be bacon left by the time I got there? }**

**{ Steve: Good point. No, I will have eaten it all by the time you arrived, I’m afraid. }**

**{ Bucky: Oh, well now I’m disappointed. }**

A minute went by before he got a response.

**{ Steve: How about I make up for the lack of bacon with another date? }**

Bucky’s heart thumped hard in his chest and he grinned.

**{ Bucky: That might help. What did you have in mind? }**

His heart sank a little again when he read Steve’s response.

**{ Steve: The Stark Arena ice skating rink just opened up on Coney Island. I thought maybe we could try it out on Saturday? }**

Bucky bit his thumbnail, considering how to reply. At twenty-four years old and a New York native, Bucky Barnes should really have known how to ice skate. His life, however, had been a little like a bad rollercoaster ride so far, and learning that particular skill had never been top of his priority list. Right now, he was wishing he’d given it more consideration.

**{ Bucky: Never been ice skating before. I’d fall flat on my ass. }**

**{ Steve: Is that a no? }**

**{ Bucky: NO! I mean, no, it’s not a no. }**

**{ Steve: So it’s a yes? }**

**{ Bucky: It’s an ‘I’ve never been ice skating before in my life and I will probably embarrass you with how bad I’d be’ }**

He gnawed nervously on his lower lip as he awaited the return text.

**{ Steve: Are you chicken? ;-) }**

That was that. Bucky Barnes had never let himself be goaded into doing something in his whole life, but he was not about to cower away from a little bit of ice skating, not when he could imagine Steve smirking to himself while lying in bed, that golden hair strewn across his pillow, waiting to see what the response would be.

**{ Bucky: Not a bit. You’re on. }**

~

Steve had been looking forward to his second date with Bucky all week. They had exchanged pictures and short text message conversations that were generally just flirting, but Steve felt elated as soon as he felt his phone vibrate in his pocket during the day. It was amazing, the way that just a simple text could get his pulse racing – Steve had never felt like this in his entire life, so instantly and completely attracted to a person to this degree. It was staggering and made him feel dizzy if he actually stopped to think about it.

Steve had no idea how much he needed that feeling until he went to meet his mother after a mid-week appointment. He’d known something wasn’t right when she’d told him about the appointment, but his heart sank when he saw her standing waiting for him outside of the hospital. Usually, she smiled brightly when she saw him coming down the street towards her, but not today. Today, Sarah Rogers was staring at her feet, her arms wrapped tightly around her body when Steve approached.

She started slightly when he touched her arm, hesitantly. His concern must have been evident because she gave him a weak smile.

 _“What happened?”_ Steve signed.

Sarah Rogers only shook her head.

 _“It’s okay, sweetheart,”_ she responded. _“We’ll talk about it when we get home.”_

If anything, that only made Steve feel worse. It had to be bad news for her to not want to discuss it in the open, so he just nodded and sat quietly in the cab, a million and one scenarios running through his head as he held on tightly to her bony hand. 

Once home, he settled her into her favourite chair in the apartment and tucked her blanket around her as she sighed in relief and exhaustion. Steve followed their usual post-appointment routine and went into the kitchen, filled the kettle and waited for it to boil before pouring his mother a cup of lavender tea, made in her favourite bone china cups that had belonged to her grandmother. He carried it carefully into the living room and handed to her before perching on the arm of the couch, watching her expectantly as she gripped the saucer firmly and slipped her thin finger through the delicate porcelain handle. She took a single sip before setting it gently in her lap.

No one ever accused Sarah Rogers of being anything less than honest and direct and she didn’t hold back with her only son now. 

_“It’s not working, sweetheart,”_ she signed. _“The scans came back and they don’t look good. They are going to start me on a new four week course of a different, more radical treatment and it is going to be rough.”_

Steve felt like someone had punched him in the chest, every bit of oxygen knocked from his lungs and he was glad he was sitting already, otherwise his legs would have given out under him.

 _“Are you dying?”_ he asked.

His mother smiled gently at him.

 _“Not just yet,”_ she signed back.

He forgot what it felt like to breathe for a minute as he tried to push down the panic rising inside of him. His chest felt tight and he had to pull out his inhaler, stand and pace around the room for a minute while Sarah watched him calmly.

 _“I need to text Bucky.”_ He signed eventually. _“I can’t go out Saturday with him when I need to be here for you.”_

Sarah Rogers immediately set aside her cup of tea and sat forward in her chair, fixing him with a determined glare.

 _“You will do no such thing. Listen to me, S-T-E-V-E-N,”_ she signed composedly, spelling his full name out instead of using her usual name sign for him. _“You have been happier the last few weeks than I have ever seen you and you are not going to throw that away because I might be feeling poorly. On Saturday afternoon, I am going to sit right here and watch movies and you are going to get out of this apartment and hold hands and laugh and have fun with that young man you are so crazy about, do you understand?”_

 

Steve glanced down at his feet as he sat back down on the arm of the couch and thought about arguing for a minute. Unfortunately, Steve Rogers knew exactly where his stubborn streak came from and he knew it was a lost cause.

_“I don’t suppose there is any point in trying to reason with you, is there?”_

Sarah smiled sweetly at him.

 _“None at all,”_ she replied.

He took a deep breath and nodded.

_“Okay.”_

His mother smiled at him warmly and opened her arms up for a hug which Steve gave willingly, pressing a kiss to her cheek. What Sarah Rogers wanted, Sarah Rogers got, and what she wanted was for Steve to have a good time on his second date with Bucky.

All the same, he stuck by her side that Saturday morning at the hospital as she underwent her new treatment. He sat and sketched as her body was flooded with chemicals and radiation, and he helped her back home, making sure she had everything she needed before he went off for the afternoon.

 _“Are you sure you’re okay with me going?”_ Steve asked her, standing by the door with his coat already on. _“Because I’m sure he wouldn’t mind if I cancelled…”_

She cut him off with a wave of her hands and a firm shake of her head.

 _“I’m fine,”_ she signed. _“Fit as a fiddle. Go and enjoy your date.”_

His mother smiled brightly at him, just like she always did and Steve felt himself relax and smile back. He knew she wouldn’t send him out if she really needed him to stay.

~

“So…since you didn’t bother to find out, I did some recon earlier in the week,” Natasha told Bucky as they walked away from the dance studios and towards the subway.

Natasha usually practiced in the afternoons but had graciously agreed to switch to the morning this week so that Bucky could go on his ice skating date with Steve that afternoon.

“What do you mean?” he asked suspiciously, shooting Natasha a side-along glance.

“I mean that I may have gone for a walk during the week and ended up at the Met.”

Bucky groaned loudly.

“Aw Nat…”

“Don’t worry,” she replied defensively. “He didn’t see me or anything. I was very subtle.”

Bucky rolled his eyes in despair.

“Natasha, I don’t know why you can’t just be a normal friend and let me find stuff out for myself. Stalking the guy I’m dating is not really normal behaviour, you know.”

Nat smiled innocently at him.

“Oh, but I found out things that you could use to your advantage.”

“Like what?”

Natasha grinned as they reached the station and went down the stairs, ticking off on her fingers.

“His last name is Rogers, which I know you didn’t bother to find out before you went out with him last time. He eats giant pretzels for lunch, he prefers peach iced tea to lemon, his favourite ice cream flavour is strawberry, and he looks like a dream in cornflower blue.”

“And you found all that out in one trip to the Met?”

“Yep!” Natasha replied proudly.

Bucky was pretty sure that if Natasha ever decided that ballet wasn’t for her, she’d make an excellent spy.

“You’re a terrible friend,” he told her with a grin.

“Excuse the fuck out of me. I’m a fucking fantastic friend. If I were a terrible friend, I’d be tagging along on your date right now.”

Bucky laughed and shook his head at her as the breeze picked up in the underground tunnel, signalling the imminent arrival of the metro. They said goodbye, Nat giving him a swift hug and a peck on the cheek for good luck, before going their separate ways.

Bucky was running a little late, practically jogging from his stop to the ice rink where Steve was already there and waiting for him. The smile on that boy’s face when he spotted Bucky was pure sunshine and it warmed Bucky’s soul right to the core as he returned the smile.

 _“Hi,”_ he signed.

 _“Hi,”_ Steve replied.

God, but Bucky just lost all ability to be a competent human being around Steve, because for a good thirty seconds all he could do was stare and smile like a big dumb idiot until Steve let out the softest of chuckles and his gaze slid away and down for a second before he held out his hand for Bucky to take.

It should have been so awkward, being on a date and not talking. Yet somehow, this was entirely comfortable with Steve, walking along with their fingers linked in total silence. Steve’s hand was warm despite the autumn chill and so soft against Bucky’s, his smile small and a little shy when he glanced at Bucky sideways. He realised something was a little off, however, when he bought the entry to the ice rink, only to turn around and find Steve frowning slightly at the phone in his hand. Bucky touched his arm lightly and Steve looked up.

 _“Are you okay?”_ Bucky signed.

 _“Yes,”_ Steve responded with a smile.

Bucky didn’t quite manage to understand all of what Steve signed after that, but he recognised ‘mother’ and ‘medicine’ and ‘ill’.

 _“Do you need to go?”_ Bucky asked.

He’d just paid twenty eight dollars to get into the rink, but it was a small price to pay if Steve needed to be home. The blond shook his head and smiled.

 _“It’s okay,”_ Steve signed.

He grabbed Bucky’s hand again and Bucky allowed himself to be dragged inside, but the second he saw the smooth expanse of ice rink he stopped dead. Steve looked back at him, an eyebrow raised at him, and Bucky just shook his head.

“No,” he said aloud as he signed. “No way.”

Steve turned around to face him and pouted, hitting Bucky with the full force of those big, angelic blue eyes. Bucky sighed, resigned. The ice rink looked like a death trap, but he couldn’t resist the puppy look Steve was throwing his way. The guy could get anything he wanted looking like that.

“If I end up with a metal leg, I’m blaming you.”

Ten minutes later and Bucky was seriously regretting his decisions as he clung for dear life to the barrier, his pride ever so slightly dented as he watched a four year old zoom past him, giggling. This had been a seriously bad idea, because he was 185lbs of lean muscle and titanium and if he fell on this ice, it was going to hurt and probably leave a dent.

In front of him, Steve grinned as he skated gracefully across the ice and executed a perfect turn, cutting back towards Bucky and throwing him a sly grin.

 _“Come on,”_ Steve signed before holding out his hand.

“No way,” Bucky told him again, releasing his grip on the wall only for as long as it took to sign it. “I don’t even like ice in my drinks.”

Steve threw back his head back and laughed, and Bucky was taken completely off guard because that laugh was deep and perfect and so musical that it took his breath away. Bucky was so mesmerized by it that he is forgot to protest when Steve reached out and seized the pockets of Bucky’s leather jacket, pulling him into the crowd of skaters that whirled and dodged around them like snowflakes in a storm.

Bucky was actually terrified. This was an entirely new experience for him and he was definitely sure that he didn’t like ice skating one bit. The metal prosthetic on his left made him feel off-balance and heavy, and shamelessly he reached out and grabbed Steve’s shoulders to steady himself as he wobbled dangerously on the ice. The look on Bucky’s face must have been hilarious, because Steve began laughing so hard that he almost lost his balance. Suddenly, those beautiful, slender hands were on his waist as Steve grabbed hold of Bucky in an attempt to steady himself.

They raised their heads at exactly the same time, eyes locking and Bucky’s mind went blank when Steve’s hands moved around to the small of his back and pulled him in a little closer. The world fell away around him and his vision narrowed down to focus entirely on Steve’s face – on those wide and bright and beautiful eyes, drawing him in and under to drown entirely in their depth. Bucky’s eyes dropped to Steve’s mouth, seeing those full lips part, the pink tongue darting out to wet them slightly. They were so close.

All the same, it took Bucky completely by surprise when Steve’s free hand wound its way around Bucky’s scarf and pulled him down the final couple of inches, his lips pressing so lightly and softly against Bucky’s that he wasn’t entirely sure they had touched. Bucky blinked and looked at Steve, whose blue eyes were closed and those long dark eyelashes fanned out over his cheekbones…and god, he had the tiniest freckles. Steve leaned back in and kissed him again, those soft lips pressing firmer against Bucky’s and now, he was sure. This time, when Steve pulled back, it was Bucky who surged forward, his fingers cupping the side of Steve’s face and kissing him back, heart hammering in his chest. Steve’s lips parted immediately, his tongue brushing lightly against Bucky’s, the hand around his scarf tightening and the one at the base of Bucky’s back pulling him closer still. Nothing existed in that moment except the feel of Steve’s body pressing into his, the softness of the skin on Steve’s jaw as Bucky’s thumb lightly grazed over it, and those lips…Bucky had been wondering what these soft lips would feel like against his own for ten weeks and the reality was so much better than anything he ever imagined.

Bucky barely dared to breathe by the time they finally parted, standing close together in the middle of the ice with Bucky’s cold hands resting on either side of Steve’s face, and the blond’s fingers tangled in Bucky’s scarf. Smiling, Bucky leaned back in and nudged the tip of Steve’s nose with his own, causing him to smile back, so blindingly beautiful and sweet that Bucky had to capture it with another kiss. He wondered how he ever got by a day in his life without kissing Steve, because those lips parted again immediately, warm breath ghosting over Bucky’s skin and his mouth, wet and so, so good. Steve made the sweetest, most helpless noise when Bucky took that plump bottom lip between his teeth and sucked softly, as Steve’s slender hands abandoned their grasp on Bucky’s scarf and lower back. He threw both arms around Bucky’s neck, tongue pressing insistently as he licked his way into Bucky’s mouth with a small moan.

Bucky went weak at the knees, right about the same time as he remembered that he was standing on ice skates and his legs gave out. He hit the ice hard and yelped in surprise and pain before all the air was pushed from his lungs with Steve falling directly on top of him. Suddenly everything was loud and bright, the pair of them lying in a freezing heap whilst skaters zoomed past them and gave them disapproving looks. They glanced at each other and both burst out laughing, Steve still lying on Bucky’s chest with his knees on the ice, toes scrabbling for purchase so that they could attempt to get to their feet again. Every attempt failed and just caused them to laugh even more, gaining plenty of contemptuous glares from the folk around them as they took up space in the middle of the rink.

Bucky couldn’t care less if it was cold on his backside when he has a lap full of warm Steve and he cared even less about the people around him when Steve leaned forward and playfully kissed his chin.

~

Steve was walking on air as he made his way up the steps of the subway and out onto the street. If he’d thought his first date with Bucky had been the best date ever, it was nothing compared to the second date. Bucky was absolutely the sweetest person Steve had ever had the pleasure of spending time with, and Christ, he was an amazing kisser. It made Steve breathless just to think about it – about the feel of Bucky’s hand on the side of his face, of the feel of his lips, his tongue, the warmth of his body. Steve may have groaned embarrassingly at some point, but he hadn’t been able to help it because he’d be damned if that wasn’t the best kiss he’d ever had.

He keyed in the pass code for his building and practically skipped up the stairs, stopping half way up to use his inhaler and ease the tightness in his chest before climbing the rest of them. Steve couldn’t wait to tell his mother all about it, but when he finally reached their apartment and closed the door behind him, he realised that she wasn’t in her chair.

Frowning, Steve crossed the floor and peeked into her room to see if she was in bed, but the room was empty and the bed still made. With growing unease, he continued down the hall and gently pushed open the door to the bathroom. He hit the ground with a bump, because Sarah Rogers was slumped on the linoleum, her head resting on her arms as she clung to the toilet seat.

“Ma!” Steve felt the word leave his throat, tight and strangled.

His mother lifted her head as Steve rushed to her side and dropped to his knees.

 _“I’m okay,”_ she signed weakly.

Steve thought she looked far from okay. Her skin was clammy and pale, her once-piercing blue eyes now dull, and her entire body trembled. Steve felt tears of guilt prickle his eyes.

 _“I’m so sorry I left you alone!”_ he signed frantically. _“I should never have ever gone out for so long and left you like this.”_

Sarah shook her head gently as Steve helped her up from the toilet to sit with her back against the bathroom wall. He watched her chest rise and fall rapidly as she struggled to breathe before eventually finding the energy to respond.

 _“You have to learn to have a life, sweetheart,_ ” she told him, her fingers forming the words slowly. _“We both know that all this treatment is doing is buying me a little bit more time.”_

Steve shut his eyes, dropping his head into his hands in an attempt to block out when she was telling him. He felt a pressure on his arm and lifted his head, opening his eyes to see her looking at him, her eyes sad but so full of love that he thought his heart would break.

_“I wanted you to go out. I wanted you to have a good time. I want this experience of watching you allow yourself to fall in love with a good man. All I want is for you to be happy, angel.”_

Steve took a deep breath as a tear rolled down his cheek and he sniffed, hastily wiping the back of his hand across his face. She was right – she was always right. Steve’s date with Bucky had been perfect and Steve had been nervous and dizzy and elated, and when they had kissed it had felt like Bucky was the only person in the world he’d been made for. He was happy when he was with Bucky, it was new and exciting and that’s all his mother had ever wanted for him. That was the reason she’d been so strong all these years, why she’d never let him hide behind the fact that he was Deaf and use it as an excuse not to integrate himself into wider society, why she’d always encouraged him to follow his heart, to be independent. She was giving him the skills he needed to make it on his own.

 _“I love you,”_ he signed.

Sarah Rogers’ face lit up in a warm and beautiful smile as she reached for his hands and squeezed them as tightly as she could for a brief moment.

 _“I love you too,”_ she told him.

~

Bucky dreamed of Steve, and that straw-blond hair that turned to gold in the right light, of that laugh which was so deep and full of joy. It was the best night of sleep he’d had in a long while, and he woke up feeling refreshed and warm and happy. Natasha would easily have accused him of being ‘loved up’. Rolling over in bed, he checked his phone for messages and frowned slightly when he saw there were none.

Not that he had expected Steve to spent half the night sending him text messages after their date, but he really had. He had a fleeting thought that he might have messed up again with falling flat on his behind at the ice rink, that Steve had decided that perhaps Bucky was too clumsy and he was thinking of a way to let Bucky down gently. But then Bucky remembered what Steve had said about his mother being ill and realised that Steve’s reason for not texting him at all the night before was much less about Bucky and about Steve actually having his priorities right.

**{ Bucky: Morning gorgeous. How are you? }**

Bucky hit send and waited a moment, gnawing on his lower lip.

**{ Steve: Hey! I’m actually pretty tired – I didn’t sleep well. }**

**{ Bucky: Your ma? }**

He bit his lip, wondering if that had been too nosy, but Bucky breathed a sigh of relief when he received the reply.

**{ Steve: Yeah, she started some new treatment yesterday and had a bad reaction. We’ve been up half the night. }**

**{ Bucky: Anything I can do to help? }**

**{ Steve: You can send me a picture of your pretty face! }**

Bucky grinned and took a quick selfie – it wasn’t his best, considering his hair was a mess and he probably needed to shave, but he sent it anyway.

**{ Steve: Thanks – that’ll get me through the day nicely ;-) }**

He laughed quietly, dropping his phone onto his chest and smiling at the ceiling for a minute before picking his phone up again and calling Natasha.

“What’s up?” she said, answering on the second ring.

She sounded ridiculously chirpy for an early Sunday morning.

“I have a slight boy problem,” replied Bucky.

“Oh, don’t tell me he’s a terrible kisser!” Natasha groaned. “That would be so upsetting.”

“Actually, he’s a damned amazing kisser, but that’s not what my problem is.”

Quickly, he filled Natasha in on the situation with Steve and his mother being ill, and explained that he wanted to do something nice. A small gesture. Nothing that could be seen as ‘too much’ seeing as they had only been on two dates and Bucky wasn’t even sure if that was officially ‘dating’ somebody.

“Take a pie or something around,” Natasha suggested.

“A pie?” Bucky deadpanned. “For one, I’m not an elderly neighbour, and two, I don’t know where he lives.”

Natasha was usually silent for a second.

“I could help with the second issue,” she said eventually.

In his bed, Bucky groaned and smacked his forehead with the flat of his hand.

“Natasha Romanoff, please tell me that you’re not stalking my potential boyfriend.”

“It’s not stalking when the information just happens to fall into yor lap. Do you wanna know where he lives or not?”

Bucky thought for a moment, weighing up the pros and cons of being privy to this kind of information, and sighed.

“Fine. Hit me up.”

~

**{ Bucky: Okay, so I’m in the approximate location of your apartment, but have no idea which building is yours. Your choices are to help me out and receive a treat, or tell me to go to hell, in which case, the treat will go to the nearest homeless person. }**

Steve laughed in surprise when he received Bucky’s text, less than two hours after receiving the stunningly beautiful picture message that had left his heart pounding and his stomach full of butterflies.

His mother had finally managed to fall asleep, propped up on some pillows in her bedroom and Steve had kept a vigil by her side, sketching away to keep himself awake in case she needed him. Now, he put his sketchbook aside and moved over to the window, moving the curtains aside to see if he could spot Bucky in the street outside, but it was empty.

**{ Steve: I’m intrigued by the treat, so I’ll let you know that its 43, Walling. But you’ll have to let me know how you tracked me down. }**

The reply was almost immediate.

**{ Bucky: My friend is a weird kind of super secret spy who scares me with her ability to know everything in the universe ;-) Meet me outside x }**

Steve smiled to himself and, casting a glance behind him to check that his mother was still asleep, he headed out into the living room, grabbed his keys from the table, and went downstairs as fast as he could.

Bucky was waiting for him on the pavement outside, smiling at him. God, but just the sight of him made Steve’s knees go weak – that smile that could light up the night sky, and that hair escaping it’s ponytail to fall around his face. He was beautiful, and he had turned up very unexpectedly on Steve’s doorstep, bearing gifts. Steve raised an eyebrow as Bucky held out a box.

“I thought you might like these,” Bucky said aloud, slowly enunciating every word so Steve could lip read more easily.

Steve took it, and lifted the corner to peek inside, feeling a smile spread over his face as he spied a colourful assortment of macarons. He looked back up at Bucky, who was absolutely adorable standing there, rubbing the back of his neck and nervously nibbling on his bottom lip as he waited for Steve’s approval.

With a short exhale, Steve stepped up and close, grasping the collar of Bucky’s jacket and standing up on his toes as he pulled Bucky down to meet him. Bucky’s lips were just as soft as they had been the night before, and Steve’s stomach back-flipped when Bucky’s hands reached up to cup his face – one warm, soft skin and the other, cool smooth metal. Steve smiled against Bucky’s mouth and pulled back, lowering himself back down onto the flats of his feet.

 _“Thank you,”_ he signed.

Bucky grinned at him.

_“You’re welcome.”_

He watched as Bucky stepped backwards away from him and, still smiling, turned and headed down the street again, leaving Steve to sigh happily after Bucky’s retreating figure. Steve Rogers might have just landed himself the cutest fella in the whole of New York state.

It wasn’t until he was back inside, kettle on to boil and arranging the bright macarons on a plate that he noticed the small, very badly drawn mouse on the inside of the box lid. It had no whiskers, stubby legs and one ear bigger than the other, and was sitting on top of a heart. Scrawled underneath it were the words ‘love Bucky xx’.

Steve’s heart melted. Scratch having the cutest fella in New York – Steve was pretty sure he had the cutest fella in the damn world.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, so first of all, you'll see I've added Mellyblue007 as co-author. This woman has seriously written half of what you're reading at the moment - I'm just polishing it up and adding plot to it XD If it's hot, it was probably written by her.
> 
> Secondly, you're lucky you got this at all - both of our Word programs buggered up and the same time in different countries and we lost all of our notes, and I lost half a chapter. Luckily, between us, we still had some things in our tumblr inboxes and managed to cobble enough together! HUZZAH!
> 
> And finally, this was honestly not meant to be it's own chapter. This was supposed to be a sweet little precursor to the main event but ended up coming in at 3600 words.

Sam Wilson proved time and time again why he was such a brilliant friend, because twenty minutes after Steve text him with news of how ill the new treatment was making his mother, Sam was at their front door with take-out chicken noodle soup for Sarah and the original Star Wars trilogy on Blu Ray.

Steve and Sam had been friends since they were kids, overcoming the hearing barrier by the love their five year old selves had for monster trucks, and the fact that Sam’s father was also Deaf and so Sam had an advantage over other kids with his ability to communicate. Their mothers were friends and the boys had lived at each other’s houses all through their childhood and their teens. They were practically family.

His mother was sleeping when Sam arrived, so Steve placed the soup in the microwave so that it could be easily heated, and then sat down heavily on the couch as Sam put on the first movie. It didn’t take his friend very long to tell that Steve was distracted.

_“What’s the matter?”_

_“Nothing,”_ Steve signed back. _“There’s just a lot going on right now.”_

_“You’re not just talking about your mom, are you?”_

Steve sighed.

_“No. I have a problem.”_

_“Which is?”_

Steve sat back and let his head fall back heavily on the couch cushion as he explained. His problem was Bucky. Or at least, his problem wasn’t so much Bucky, but the timing of meeting him, because let’s face it, Bucky was perfect.

He told Sam about the second date, about the amazing kiss on the ice and about how guilty he’d felt when he got home to find his mother on the bathroom floor, and then he told Sam how Bucky had shown up outside the apartment earlier that morning with a box of macarons in what was possibly the most romantic gesture Steve had ever witnessed.

The problem was that Bucky was amazing and Steve felt happy when he was around him. More than that, Steve felt right when he was with Bucky, like there had been a little piece of him missing for twenty four years and suddenly he’d found it and it fit perfectly in just the right place. And this was a problem because, just as he’d found Bucky, his mother’s health had taken a turn for the worse and Steve should be there for her. Sarah Rogers had been taking care of Steve for his whole life – through his heart operation at the age of ten, through every asthma attack he’d ever suffered, through scarlet fever as a toddler and every cold and chest infection that decimated his immune system time after time. She had always been there for him and now it was Steve’s turn to take care of her. That wasn’t something he could do when he was gallivanting off with a gorgeous, ponytailed musician.

When he’d finished, Steve looked at Sam to find his friend looking at him with an eyebrow arched perfectly.

_“What?”_

_“You’re being stupid,”_ Sam signed.

Steve frowned at him.

_“I am not!”_

_“Yes you are,”_ insisted Sam. _“I’ve never seen you so happy since the day you first saw that guy in the bookstore. This has been so good for you – meeting him, flirting, dating. It’s like a whole new Steve Rogers, now with extra self confidence and moon eyes. Your mom sees that and she’s told you that she wants you to go out and date and have fun.”_

 _“I want to,”_ Steve signed. _“I really want to. But maybe this just isn’t the right time.”_

 _“Are you kidding me?”_ responded Sam with a disbelieving shake of his head. _“This was perfect timing. He came into your life at the moment when you needed this most. Your mom doesn’t want you to waste whatever time she’s got by playing nursemaid. You’ll not only make yourself happy by continuing to date this guy, but you’ll make your mom happy too.”_

_“You think?”_

A small spark of hope ignited in Steve’s heart. The thought of having to give Bucky up had made Steve feel instantly miserable – they’d only been on two dates, and had a handful of conversations via text but there was evident attraction there and a connection that Steve had never felt with anybody else before.

_“Yes, you dumbass. There is no reason right now why you should stop dating him. Don’t give this up over some misplaced sense of nobility.”_

Sam punched Steve lightly on the arm which made him grimace, but he smiled soon after and felt like a weight had been lifted from his shoulders as they settled back to watch their movie. Steve didn’t notice when he got up to check on his mother and give her the soup an hour later, that Sam had borrowed his phone.

~

Bucky was taking advantage of Clint being flat out asleep to sit down at his piano and jot down the tune he was composing – the one that reminded him of Steve – when his text alert went off. He set down his pencil immediately and picked his phone up, honestly expecting it to be Steve, but frowned when it flashed up with an unrecognised number.

**{ Hi Bucky. My name is Sam and I’m a friend of Steve’s. I know that you two have only just started dating and all, so you might not know much about his mother being pretty ill. Anyway, Steve has gone through a pretty tough few days and I was hoping that we could collaborate on something to maybe cheer him up? }**

Bucky raised his eyebrows in surprise. Steve had mentioned his mother’s illness and her bad reaction to the new treatment she was receiving. Bucky could only imagine how difficult that could be, watching a parent waste away before your eyes when all you could do was stand by and watch. Bucky had lost both parents at fourteen and it had been sudden and perfectly awful in the aftermath, but at least they’d never suffered and Bucky hadn’t been forced to witness their decline.

**{ Bucky: Hey Sam. I’d love to do something for him. Did you have anything particular in mind? }**

**{ Sam: I was wondering if you’d be free for lunch one day this week? Steve and I usually lunch in the park, so we could meet up? Bring food and a friend so I don’t end up being a third wheel? ;) }**

Bucky grinned and closed down his text message window to bring up Natasha’s number.

“Are you doing anything on Wednesday around lunchtime?” he asked when she picked up the phone.

“I might be killing a bitch if he doesn’t get this routine right,” Natasha replied mildly. “My dance partner can’t lift for shit. Other than that, nothing much. Why?”

“I just got a message from a friend of Steve’s, asking if we wanna do, like, a group picnic type thing one day this week. I don’t have class on Wednesday afternoons, and I know you’ve been dying to meet Steve properly since you’ve been stalking him and all…”

“Hey,” she interjected indignantly. “It’s not stalking, it’s intelligence gathering.”

“Are you sure you don’t work for the CIA?” Bucky asked, grinning.

“I’d have to kill you if I told you,” Nat said innocently. “Either way, I’m in.”

Bucky rang off and brought his text screen back up to reply to Sam.

**{ Bucky: I’m good for Wednesday? My friend Nat wants to come along too – I think she’s pretty excited. }**

**{ Sam: Wednesday would be great. Oh, and don’t tell Steve – I really want him to be surprised. }**

Bucky smiled to himself as he text back.

**{ Bucky: I wouldn’t dream of it! }**

~

 _“Where are we going?”_ Steve signed as Sam walked right on past their usual lunch spot.

Sam smirked at him and kept walking, leaving Steve frowning in confusion as he followed his friend for a good five minutes to the exposed bedrock outcrop in Central Park. He was about to seriously berate Sam for dragging him all the way out here when he only had an hour for lunch, but his hands dropped to his sides when they reached the top, suddenly understanding why they were here.

Sitting on a chequered blanket on a strip of bedrock situated next to a small waterfall and a bubbling stream, a pretty red-haired woman next to him, and surrounded by a vast array of Steve’s favourite lunch foods was Bucky. He looked at Steve with a small apprehensive smile, the corner of his bottom lip caught between his teeth and Steve’s heart stuttered in his chest. He couldn’t stop the smile from spreading across his face and he shook his head fondly as he looked at Sam.

 _“Surprise!”_ Sam signed with a grin.

 _“You sneaky bastards!”_ Steve replied, a laugh bubbling from his throat as Sam pushed him towards the blanket.

Bucky beamed as Steve dropped down next to him and curled up into his side, sighing happily.

 _“He made me promise not to tell,”_ Bucky signed before draping his arm across Steve’s shoulder and pulling him close.

Bucky was starting to get better at his signing, and he introduced the redhead as ‘Nat’ whilst Steve introduced Sam to them both.

“It’s really nice to finally meet you,” Nat said aloud with a smile, speaking slow and clearly enough for him to lip read. He had to glance at Sam for help on interpreting the rest though. “Bucky’s being playing his cards very close to his chest – he wouldn’t give anything away.”

“Really?” Sam replied, signing as he spoke. “That’s really funny because Steve hasn’t actually been able to shut up about this guy since the day they met.”

Steve’s jaw dropped in horror and he aimed a swift kick at Sam’s ankle, catching his friend squarely.

 _“Shut the fuck up!”_ he signed urgently as his friend grinned and pretended to roll around on the ground in agony, causing Nat to burst out laughing.

Feeling his cheeks heat up, Steve stole a glance at Bucky and his stomach back flipped, because Bucky wasn’t laughing at him – Bucky was looking at him with softness in his grey-blue eyes and a shy smile which Steve returned as Bucky dipped his head and grazed Steve’s temple with his nose. Steve sighed happily and leaned more into Bucky’s side which was warm and solid, the buttery-softness of Bucky’s leather jacket against his cheek and the heady scent of cologne wrapping around Steve’s brain.

“Oh my god,” said Sam as he looked at them both, signing. “You two are so far gone, it’s ridiculous.”

Steve felt Bucky’s ribcage move with a single laugh and Steve buried a smile into the space below Bucky’s shoulder. He was ever so glad that Sam had talked him into keeping this perfect guy.

He zoned out of the conversation after a few minutes. It was mostly Sam and Nat talking to each other, even though he felt the odd rumble against his body as Bucky spoke a few words here and there. It could be pretty difficult being the only Deaf person in a group where everyone else could hear, and even though Bucky made every effort to sign as much as he knew, and Sam signed everything he said, sometimes it was just easier to not pay attention.

Instead, he focussed on the feel of Bucky’s body pressed against his own, and those large, gorgeous fingers threading lightly through his hair. Steve had quickly discovered that he loved that – he could sit here all day with Bucky’s fingertips kneading his scalp, pulling gently at small handfuls of hair before feathering it through his fingers again. He hadn’t felt this relaxed in a long while as he absently picked up a slice of the particularly delicious-looking gooey chocolate cake that lay in a Tupperware on the blanket, and broke off a piece. Turning to Bucky, Steve smiled as he guided the morsel towards Bucky’s mouth and Bucky grinned back, leaning forward with his mouth open. Steve considered for a split second putting the cake in his own mouth like Bucky had done with the last macaron on their first date, but decided against it and popped the cake between those plump lips.

His finger got caught between them as Bucky’s mouth closed around the cake and Steve’s world slowed to a standstill. Bucky’s tongue flicked gently against Steve’s fingertip, rough and hot and wet, and Steve was frozen for a second as he watched Bucky slowly chew the morsel and swallow it. Those grey-blue eyes were fixed on his and Steve could feel his heart begin to hammer hard against his ribcage as he slowly drew his finger back and watched them flutter closed, Bucky’s dark eyelashes fanning out over the hip of his high cheekbones.

The tip of his finger drew back and over Bucky’s plump bottom lip with a definite pressure, dragging it down and leaving a thin wet stripe all the way to his chin. Steve felt his breath catch in his throat as Bucky’s eyes slowly opened again, showing huge, blown pupils. It was like a flash of lightning in the pit of his belly, because Bucky was now looking at him with dark, heavy eyes, his chest rising and falling faster as his breathing sped up. Steve was high on the affect this was having on Bucky, dizzy on the rush of power he got when he dug his fingernail gently into the dimple on Bucky’s chin and saw the Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed shakily.

It should not have felt anywhere near as erotic as it did.

He was startled by a movement to the side and tore his eyes away from Bucky’s flushed face in time to see Nat snatching up the rest of the chocolate cake and getting to her feet.

“Feed the ducks?” Sam was saying, his hands forming the words as though it were second nature to him. “We’re not near a pond…”

Sam’s hands dropped as Nat grabbed him firmly by the collar of his jacket and hauled him to his feet with surprising strength for a woman who looked as small and delicate as Nat did. Despite the fact that his brain was still buzzing from that intimate exchange with Bucky just seconds before, Steve couldn’t help but huff with amusement as Sam allowed himself to be dragged off by Nat, looking over his shoulder and giving Steve a goofy grin and a thumbs-up.

He turned back to find Bucky grinning after them both and suddenly, Steve felt a little shy, the tips of his ears growing hot as Bucky’s grey-blue gaze turned back on him. All that was left of the gooey chocolate cake was a tiny bit of icing. Steve dragged his thumb through it, barely believing he was so boldly about to do this in Central Park where anyone could see. But nobody was watching him except for Bucky, whose tongue flickered out over his bottom lip in anticipation, eyes watching every move Steve made, drinking it all in.

Steve reached up and slid his thumb all the way into Bucky’s mouth, almost groaning as Bucky’s lips softly closed, holding it gently in place as his tongue swirled slowly around it. He bit his lip as Bucky’s eyes closed again and he allowed Steve the luxury of slipping his thumb slowly out to the tip, running it languidly just inside Bucky’s bottom lip before pushing it back inside, feeling the pressure on it increase as Bucky sucked on it delicately.

Steve was hot all over, his chest tight and breathing ragged as Bucky’s cool metal fingertips came up to brush against Steve’s flushed cheek, leaving cool trails along his skin that made him shiver. Before he even realized what he was doing, Steve leaned in, sucking Bucky’s bottom lip into his mouth and God, he tasted so good, the tang of chocolate lingering with the natural sweetness of his mouth. Steve felt himself groan as he edged closer, practically crawling into Bucky’s lap as those strong arms slid around his, pulling him in.

It was like somebody flipped a switch in Steve’s brain. He’d kissed enough people before – hell, he’d kissed Bucky before, and it had been amazing and sweet, leaving him warm and breathless, but now Steve felt like he was on fire, moaning shamelessly in the middle of Central Park as he chased Bucky’s tongue with his own, his fingers slipping up into that dark hair just behind the ponytail, nails digging in. Steve just couldn’t get close enough to him. He’d never wanted anyone this badly in his life.

Steve gasped sharply as Bucky’s hand slid up the back of his shirt, rucking it up as his nails dragged down the ridge of knobs on Steve’s spine. Their mouths parted and for a minute, they just sat with their foreheads pressed together, panting hard and hands ghosting over clothes, smoothing down where they and grasped and tugged just moments earlier.

He watched through heavy-lidded eyes as Bucky’s mouth widened into a grin, huffing out an amused laugh that Steve could feel against his lips and his heart leapt for joy when Bucky took his hand, linking their fingers together and pressing light kisses against Steve’s knuckles.

 _“I might have a thing for your artist’s hands, S-T-E-V-I-E”_ Bucky signed the moment he let go and Steve felt the laugh that bubbled up from his chest at Bucky’s bashful little smile.

My god, but this man was gorgeous. Steve didn’t know how he was going to keep his hands to himself from now on.

He smiled and leaned in to kiss Bucky again but halted when he felt his phone start to vibrate in his pocket. Only then did Steve remember that this was Wednesday and his hour’s lunch break was over in ten minutes – that was his alarm, set to make sure he got back to work in time. Grimacing, he turned it off and shot Bucky an apologetic smile.

 _“I have to go back to work,”_ he signed.

Bucky smiled softly at him and nodded.

_“Okay.”_

Sam and Natasha were still missing, but Steve honestly didn’t have the time to go looking for his friend before he left. He made a mental note to text Sam on his way back.

It was almost painful tearing himself from Bucky, leaning in to steal one more kiss, only to be pulled back in for another and another, and one more still every time he tried to leave, but eventually Steve found the will to pull back and stand, smiling happily.

His body trembled on the whole walk back to the Met as the adrenaline left his veins. Steve had never experienced anything like that before – a simple gesture that turned hot and heavy and got his pulse racing in the middle of the afternoon. He’d never be able to make it through the rest of the day without zoning out with thinking about the taste of Bucky’s mouth and the feel of his fingers on Steve’s bare skin. It had been electric.

He was just walking up the steps to the Met when he received a text message, his phone buzzing against his thigh.

**{ Bucky: So…if you were talking about me to a random person, would you possibly refer to me as your boyfriend? }**

Steve grinned, biting his lip as he typed back, hoping to Hell that his reply was the correct one.

**{ Steve: I think…yes. }**

The response was almost instantaneous.

**{ Bucky: In that case, your boyfriend can’t wait to get you alone this weekend.}**

Steve let out a shaky breath made a grab for the wall as his knees went weak, fingers trembling with anticipation as he typed his reply.

**{ Steve: Looking forward to it. }**

~

Bucky was lying stretched out on the blanket when Natasha returned half an hour later, alone, and flopped down beside him.

“Did you find any ducks?” he asked, grinning.

“No,” she replied mildly, “But at least I got to eat chocolate cake and avoid watching you perform fellatio on Steve’s finger. I mean, Jesus Christ! Have some decorum, Barnes!”

Bucky laughed aloud and sat up, unable to stop himself from grinning idiotically.

“I’ve got a boyfriend,” he announced.

Natasha raised a perfectly shaped eyebrow and smirked.

“Really? Maybe you should have told that to Steve before you started making out with him…”

“Oh fuck off!” Bucky replied, giving Nat a playful shove.

She laughed and reached over for a bottle of iced tea. Bucky bit his lip and looked out over the Park, remembering the look of Steve’s face as Bucky had sucked chocolate frosting from his thumb. That might have been the most erotic moment of Bucky’s entire life, having those beautiful slender fingers sliding between his lips, tasting the sweetness of Steve’s skin. He wanted more of it, more of Steve, and as much of him as Steve was willing to give.

“You really like this guy, don’t you?”

Natasha’s voice was soft, her face pensive as he turned to her and smiled.

“Yeah,” he replied.

She studied him for a moment before making a small noise in the back of her throat.

“We should all do something for Halloween on Friday.”

“Like what?” Bucky asked.

“I dunno. Movie, perhaps? I know a place that’s showing the silent, black and white version of Nosferatu that Steve might like?”

Bucky thought about it for a moment. What he really wanted was to get Steve alone and in private, and get his hands and mouth all over that gorgeous little body. But Halloween was Halloween, and Natasha was Natasha – once she got an idea, she’d never let go of it. Bucky would never find an excuse good enough to get out of it.

“I’ll ask,” he said eventually.


	9. Chapter 9

**{ Steve: So, would it be alright of me to ask a rather impertinent question? }**

Bucky received the text on Thursday evening while he was studying and he put aside his books to pick up his phone, smile as he read it and reply.

**{ Bucky: Well, you’re my boyfriend now, so I think you get to ask at least one ;-) }**

The previous day in the park had been amazing. If Bucky hadn’t been completely in love with Steve’s hand before now, then he had definitely tumbled head over heels when he’d sucked chocolate frosting from Steve’s thumb in possibly the most erotic lunchtime endeavour of his life.

Steve’s hands had been the first thing Bucky had noticed – slender, graceful, delicate, and he’d be lying if he hadn’t thought about what those hands would feel like on his body, under his clothes and on his skin. It was a serious daily distraction.

He snapped out of his reverie as his phone went off in his hands and he looked back down at the screen.

**{ Steve: Is your name really ‘Bucky’? I mean, is that what your parents named you at birth? }**

Bucky laughed.

**{ Bucky: The name on my birth certificate is ‘James Buchanan Barnes’. }**

**{ Steve: James Buchanan? Like the President? }**

**{ Bucky: Exactly! I don’t know why my dad thought that was such a great idea, but that’s what I’m stuck with. }**

**{ Steve: And you thought Bucky was a better option than James? :-p }**

In his room, Bucky rolled onto his back on the bed and chuckled softly before carefully typing a one-handed reply.

**{ Bucky: Cheeky! ;-) Again, something I’ve been stuck with as a kid. My sister is called Rebecca and I think my parents got a kick out of calling us Bucky and Becky. They were sadists XD }**

It took about a minute for Steve to respond.

**{ Steve: What’s your sister like? }**

He grinned.

**{ Bucky: She’s a total brat, just like all little sisters should be. I wouldn’t change her for the world though. What about you? Got any bratty siblings? }**

**{ Steve: Nah, it’s always just been me and my ma. I’m enough of a handful as it is ;-) }**

Bucky laughed when he read that.

**{ Bucky: What? You? I don’t believe it. }**

**{ Steve: It’s true! The only thing tougher than being a skinny, sick, Deaf kid in Brooklyn is being a single parent of a skinny, sick, Deaf kid in Brooklyn! }**

Bucky bit his lip as he read Steve’s text and tapped his finger gently against the side of his phone as he battled with typing the first question that had popped into his mind. Thinking for a second, he typed the next best thing.

**{ Bucky: Would it be alright for ME to ask a rather impertinent question? }**

The response was almost immediate.

**{ Steve: What happened to my dad? ;-) }**

**{ Bucky: Yeah. Don’t feel like you have to tell me or anything. I’m horribly nosy at times and it’s quite alright to tell me to fuck off. }**

Thankfully though, Steve did not tell him to fuck off.

**{ Steve: Lol! No it’s fine. My dad left when I was about eight months old. I guess he couldn’t deal with having a kid who couldn’t hear AND was in and out of hospital with heart and lung problems. I think he was expecting to spawn a big strapping boy and he got me instead. }**

Even though it was a text message, Bucky could definitely detect the bitter sarcasm behind it.

**{ Bucky: Then it is his loss. You deserve better than that anyway, Steve. You may not have always had perfect health but you are pretty perfect in every other way that I can think of. }**

Bucky hit send and waited, chewing his bottom lip nervously. He honestly wasn’t very good at determining the line between just right and too much – it’s not like he’d had a massive amount of practice, flirting with people that he was actually seriously attracted to.

It took Steve a little longer than usual to respond to his text, but just as Bucky was starting to really regret his wording, his message tone sounded and he made a dive for his phone.

**{ Steve: Thank you – you’ve obviously learned that flattery will get you everywhere ;-) }**

Bucky let out a short, relieved laugh.

**{ Bucky: Well, I try my best! }**

**{ Steve: I think you’re pretty perfect too…}**

His breath caught as he read it, staring at his message screen for way too long as he tried to come up with a response. It turns out that he didn’t have to, as Steve had another question for him.

**{ Steve: I noticed that you used the past tense when you mentioned your parents. Can I ask what happened to them? You also reserve the right to tell me to fuck off. }**

Bucky bit his lip, because that text just proved how perceptive Steve actually was to have picked up on it.

**{ Bucky: I’d never ever tell you to fuck off! ;-) But I don’t really want to bore you with the long and tragic tale of poor Orphan Bucky Barnes. }**

The reply was fast.

**{ Steve: You could never bore me… }**

It was an open response that allowed Bucky the opportunity to accept or decline to tell the story. He sat up on his bad and ran a hand through his hair as he thought about it. It wasn’t really a story he’d discussed with many people – it had even taken Natasha a good few months to get the information out of him, and he was pretty sure he’d never told Clint the particulars.

However, there was something about Steve that made him want to open up. Perhaps it was that Steve had been so forthcoming about telling Bucky about his father, but a moment later, Bucky was typing out his reply.

**{ Bucky: It was a car crash, when I was fourteen. Drunk driver pulled right out in front of them on the way to pick my sister and me up from school and they died on impact. }**

In fact, they had all been about to go on vacation. He’s been standing at the school gates waiting for them, Rebecca holding his hand and wearing Minnie Mouse ears, bouncing with excitement when the Principal had ushered them both back inside to where two cops were waiting to give them the news. The Barnes siblings had no other living relatives and so had been taken directly from school to a Children’s Home where Becca had cried herself to sleep with her arms clasped tightly around her brother’s neck. That had officially been the worst day of his life, and Bucky had suffered through some pretty bad days.

**{ Steve: I’m really sorry xx }**

Bucky smiled at the reply and typed back as quick as he could.

**{ Bucky: Yeah, it’s kind of a depressing story, but the plus side is that we got placed with the world’s best foster parent and I grew up with a whole bunch of adoptive brothers and sisters in a frickin huge house. It was never boring XD }**

**{ Steve: Now that sounds like it was fun. }**

**{ Bucky: It was crazy! But it was the best thing that came out of the worst of circumstances. I was lucky :-) }**

He was grinning again by the time their conversation ended after another hour of texting and talking about the TV shows they watched as kids, delving into the nostalgia of the late nineties. Bucky hated that he had to say goodbye for the night.

**{ Bucky: I can’t wait to see you tomorrow x }**

**{ Steve: I can’t wait to see you either x }**

Bucky sighed happily. Less than twenty four hours to go until he could feel those beautiful slender hands in his.

**{ Bucky: G’night, gorgeous xx }**

**{ Steve: Goodnight xx }**

~

Friday night found Steve in the bathroom, gelling his hair up into an Elvis-style quiff when Sam arrived with his mother. He’d been rather reluctant at first when the suggestion had been made to go out to see a movie on Friday night with Sam and Bucky and Bucky’s friends – the last time Steve had gone out for the evening, his mother had ended up on the bathroom floor. So he’d been finally swayed with the suggestion that Sam’s mother, Nancy, come over and sit with her for the night. The women had been friends since their sons were small, but as they’d grown older and stopped having sleepovers, the women had found themselves with fewer chances to get together for a chat. Both Sarah and Nancy had been thrilled at the suggestion.

 _“There he is,”_ Sarah signed as Steve came out of the bathroom to find them all standing in the living room, smiling at him as he tugged self-consciously at a few stray strands of hair.

 _“I thought I said to wear a costume!”_ Sam signed, his expression exasperated.

Steve’s friend was dressed in a 1930’s get-up, complete with trilby hat tipped at a jaunty angle and Monopoly money sticking out of every pocket.

 _“I am,”_ Steve insisted, looking down at his white t-shirt and black jeans. _“I’m Danny Zuko!”_

_“Danny Zuko had dark hair.”_

_“Fine then, I’m just a normal 1950s Greaser. Either way, I feel ridiculous.”_

_“But it’s half price at the movie theatre if you dress up,”_ Sam signed enthusiastically.

Steve rolled his eyes, knowing that he would have much preferred to dress normally and put on a warm coat rather than freeze, wandering around in a costume that he looked stupid in. He grabbed his black zip-front hoodie from the coat peg and shucked it on whilst his mother smiled at him indulgently.

 _“You boys have a good time,”_ Sarah Rogers signed.

 _“Oh, I’m sure they will,”_ Nancy responded. _“Sam hasn’t stopped talking about this ‘Nat’ girl…”_

Sarah raised her eyebrows.

_“Oh? Nat? Steve, do you know anything about this ‘Nat’?”_

Steve glanced at Sam and smirked as his friend shifted uncomfortably.

 _“She’s Bucky’s friend,”_ he told her.

_“Oh, and Bucky! I’ve heard a lot about him too. Have you met him yet, Sarah?”_

_“No, but I have seen a picture. Steve has himself a Mr Tall, Dark and Very Handsome…”_

Now it was Steve’s turn to squirm uncomfortably and he zipped up his jacket decisively and tagged on Sam’s elbow.

 _“Time to go!”_ he signed.

 _“Don’t hurry back,”_ his mother signed, casting a glance at Nancy Wilson. _“Feel free to stay out all night if you want.”_

Nancy burst out laughing at that and Steve’s mother was barely containing her smirk. Steve shot her a look of horror.

“Ma!” he said aloud before hastening out of the apartment with Sam hot on his heels, leaving their mothers to chortle and discuss their sons’ personal lives. Sometimes, Steve actually wondered if he really was twenty four and not sixteen.

It turns out that Bucky’s apartment wasn’t really all that far from Steve’s, and it only took fifteen minutes of walking to get there. He got a shock, however, when the door was opened by a blond man who looked like he was wrapped head to toe in silver duct tape. Steve was even more surprised when the guy immediately started signing.

 _“Hi!”_ The guy grinned. _“I’m Clint. You must be Steve and Sam.”_

Steve gaped as Sam laughed, clapped him on the back and went inside, shaking Clint’s hand as he passed and went straight over to Nat who was teasing a headful of 1930s waves into position in the middle of the living room. It was evident now that Sam and Nat, despite knowing each other for all of two days, had co-ordinated their costumes and Steve wondered why he’d not thought to do that with Bucky.

He stood dumbly in the middle of the room, looking around for his boyfriend, and felt a light touch on his shoulder. Steve turned around to see Clint standing there, beaming at him.

 _“It’s good to finally meet you,”_ Clint signed. _“I’m Bucky’s roommate.”_

Steve blinked at him for a second, taking in the duct tape costume, headphones, and two triangles taped to a headband above his eyes which sported bright red LED lights. If Steve had thought he’d looked ridiculous before stepping out of the house, it was nothing to how this guy looked.

 _“Nice to meet you too,”_ Steve replied with a frown. _“He didn’t mention that you were Deaf.”_

In fact, Steve distinctly remembered Bucky saying that he was just starting to learn sign language in order to speak to him. Thankfully, Clint shook his head.

_“I’m hard of hearing. I wear hearing aids and do pretty well with them so I’ve never taught him ASL until now.”_

“Ah,” Steve said aloud.

At least Bucky had told the truth about that – for a second, Steve had started to worry.

Just then, Clint looked up and behind Steve’s shoulder, grinning.

_“There he is!”_

Steve turned and his jaw quite literally dropped, because the man in front of him was not Bucky Barnes. The man in front of him was gorgeous, dangerous, and sex on legs. Steve knew instantly that his costume was based on one of the more obscure comic book characters of the early 1960s, and he knew this because he had studied comic art as a module in college, with this character being one of his favourites. With his hair loose and wild and hanging down to his shoulders, black war paint streaked across his eyes and a leather jacket with a complicated lattice of straps and buckles, Bucky was dressed as the elusive Russian assassin from the Cold War era – The Winter Soldier.

Steve noticed immediately that even the way Bucky moved was different, his characteristic swagger still there but now more predatory, more graceful than usual, more purposeful. His eyes looked almost luminescent, shining out from the black war paint that surrounded them and the hair that fell loose, framing his face, and drawing even more attention to those lips.

 _“You look amazing,”_ Steve finally managed to sign once he’d finally stopped gaping.

Bucky grinned at him, the Winter Soldier disappearing to be replaced with Bucky again.

_“Nat makes me dress up every year. I’ve been waiting years to finally do this one.”_

Bucky glanced down at his left arm and then frowned at it. Steve watched as Bucky took hold of his dark long-sleeved t-shirt at the shoulder and yanked hard, tearing it away from the seam and letting it fall to the floor. Steve swallowed hard – not only had that action been seriously hot to witness, but now Bucky’s metal arm was revealed, the Winter Soldier’s characteristic red star stencilled in face paint on his bicep.

He was beginning to find it very difficult to resist the urge to skip the movie in favour of pushing Bucky into the closest empty room and climbing on top of him.

~

Steve hadn’t realized that they would be seeing the movie at one of the theatre grand old theatres that had been built around the turn of the century when the Industrial Revolution had given New York’s upper class more money than God and the desire to display that money as ostentatiously as possible. They bought their tickets at the brightly lit ticket booth outside the entrance and Bucky held the heavy glass door for everyone.

When Steve walked into the lobby, his face lit up in awe as he took in the ornately-painted trim, sweeping crimson-carpeted marble staircases, beautiful glassworks, and brass railings. It would not be the first time a silent movie had been shown there and Nat and Sam looked right at home as Bonnie and Clyde in their 1930’s finery. He turned to look at Bucky and found him smiling in delight.

_“Bucky! It’s beautiful! I thought we were just going to a random cinema!”_

Bucky reached out and smoothed a piece of Steve’s hair that was falling into his eyes.

_“Nothing’s good enough for my best guy.”_

_“Just a second…”_ Clint signed, appearing just behind Bucky. _“What did you just call him?”_

A slow grin spread over Steve’s face as he repeated the name sign. Clint burst out laughing and Bucky frowned.

“What?”

Steve chuckled as he watched Clint explain it verbally to Bucky – a hand held straight with the thumb tucked in as the sign for the letter ‘B’, followed by passing the index finger back and forth in front of the nose. It was the sign for ‘mouse’.

He coloured slightly as Bucky turned back to him, shaking his head but smiling all the same.

_“My name sign is mouse?”_

_“It seemed to fit,”_ Steve replied.

Nat and Sam, who was being happily dragged by the hand, stepped into Steve’s line of sight behind Bucky. Steve grinned as Sam automatically signed Nat’s words.

"Are we going to go watch this movie, or are you guys going to stay here and make babies in the lobby? Not that I am objecting. I’ve always wanted to be an auntie."

Bucky never took his eyes off of Steve but he grinned and flushed a little bit.

_"What do you say? Wanna go grab some seats S-T-E-V-I-E?"_

The lower level was already getting crowded, so they climbed one of the giant staircases to the Mezzanine and managed to get seats in the first row.

"I don’t know why no one is sitting up here already. These are the absolute best seats in the house!" Sam said, signing the words as they sat down in the very middle of the row.

Steve immediately reached out and took Bucky’s hand, threading their fingers together gently. He felt Bucky’s thumb gently caressing the top of his hand and the casual intimacy made Steve’s heart melt. In his wildest dreams, he could never have imagined how such a small gesture could turn him into such a sap. He looked up from their joined hands to Bucky’s face. He was laughing about something that Sam or Nat had said on the other side of Steve and his blue eyes sparkled with mirth, enhanced by the black paint around them. Steve wondered how the hell he had ever gotten so lucky. At that moment, Bucky happened to glance down and he must have seen something on Steve’s face because his laughter faded to a gentle smile. He withdrew his hand and signed:

_“Are you okay?”_

_“Yes,”_ Steve signed back. _“I’m just wondering how I got so lucky.”_

He watched as Bucky bit his lip bashfully and gave Steve a small smile.

_“Me too.”_

Bucky replied before leaning in to steal a slow, sweet kiss as he took Steve’s hand back in his own.

As the lights in the theatre grew dim and the velvet curtain parted to reveal a large screen, Steve glanced over at Sam and Nat and then promptly poked Bucky and discretely drew his attention to the fact that Nat’s arm was linked with Sam’s, her head resting on her shoulder. Sam was just grinning idiotically at the screen, looking as though he couldn’t believe his luck either. Bucky smirked and huffed out a chuckle, squeezing Steve’s hand as the film began.

As the movie progressed, Steve had noticed Bucky squeezing his hand a bit tighter and moving closer to him until their shoulders were pressed together. He loved how tactile Bucky naturally was, so he didn’t think anything of it until Count Orlok tried sucking the blood from Hutter’s finger and Bucky dug his face into Steve’s neck to hide his eyes, startling him. It seemed that Bucky, who looked right at home playing an assassin with his gleaming metal arm, black leather, and war paint was scared to death by horror movies and Steve found himself feeling affectionately protective. He wrapped his arm around Bucky’s shoulders and ran his fingers through his hair as he pressed a kiss to the top of Bucky’s head. Bucky’s only response was to scoot closer and burrow his face deeper into Steve’s neck.

By the time the iconic scene of Count Orlok’s shadow slowly ascending the staircase came on screen, Bucky was all but curled up in Steve’s lap. Steve felt Bucky squeak and as he squeezed him even tighter as he felt Bucky’s hot breath against his throat. He caught movement out of the corner of his eye and looked over to see that Sam had apparently found fear as a motivation to get over his shyness because he had pulled Nat fully into his lap and had his arms around her waist with his face buried in her hair so that he didn’t have to look at the screen.

Steve caught Nat’s attention and they rolled their eyes, bonding over the fact that Bucky and Sam were being such babies. Directing his attention back to Bucky, Steve gently smoothed his hair and pressed a gentle kiss to his jaw, smiling to himself over the fact that such a big, strong guy could be the World’s biggest softie. Like a timid little mouse.

It was only as the movie ended and the lights went back up that they all realised Clint had slept through the entire thing.

~

It had been a pretty fun night with everybody, but once the movie had finished and Clint had left to go DJ at HYDRA for the night, Bucky was pretty unsure of what to do next. He stood there on the pavement in front of the movie theatre, Steve’s beautiful long fingers linked tightly through his metal ones, only knowing that he really didn’t want to say goodnight just yet. Thankfully, Natasha suggested that the four of them go back to Bucky’s apartment and watch more Halloween movies, which both Sam and Steve readily agreed to. Half an hour later, Bucky had scrubbed off most of the greasy black army camouflage paint from his face and struggled with the hundreds of buckles on his jacket with a little help from Steve, and was curled up on the couch with his boyfriend tucked up into his side and Sam wrapped up in Natasha.

It wasn’t very long before he felt a bony elbow dig into his ribs and he glanced down at Steve who grinned and nodded in the direction of their friends who were entangled on the couch next to them. Bucky grinned back and unwound his arm from around Steve’s shoulder.

 _“Should we move?”_ he signed.

 _“Yes,”_ Steve replied before sliding off the couch.

Bucky followed as gently and quietly as he could, trying not to disturb them or draw attention to the fact that he and Steve were sneaking off somewhere more private. He took Steve’s hand in his and led him down the hall to his room, ushering his boyfriend inside and closing the door before fumbling around in the dark for his lamp.

The soft light flooded the room and Bucky watched as Steve sat on the edge of his bed, hands neatly folded in his lap and sky blue eyes turning on him. Suddenly, Bucky had no idea what to do and he stood there like a huge dork, nervously rubbing the back of his neck.

 _“Should I put on a movie?”_ Bucky signed eventually.

Steve smiled at him and nodded.

_“Okay.”_

Glad to have the excuse to gather his thoughts, Bucky turned away and flipped though the pathetic amount of DVDs he had in his room and selected one at random – a Russian movie that he’d bought because of the outstanding score more than the plot, and stuck it into the DVD player before turning back to Steve.

His heart stuttered in his chest, because Steve had stripped off his jacket and was shuffling back on Bucky’s bed like he’d been there a hundred times before, patting the space next to him. Bucky slid on next to him and they both lay on their sides, facing each other and paying no attention to the movie playing on the other side of the room.

It all started as light touches and the brush of fingertips against slivers of bare skin that appeared when they moved and their shirts slipped up, slow kisses that started at a brush of lips and got longer and deeper until Bucky slid his metal hand up the side of Steve’s neck to cup his jaw, thumb just gently moving down to curl around Steve’s throat.

He wasn’t even exerting any pressure at all, and it wasn’t even done with any intent but suddenly Steve was gasping into Bucky’s mouth, fingertips digging into his skin as he pushed up into Bucky’s body, head falling back against the pillow. Bucky’s lower belly surged with heat as he realised that Steve liked it, liked having those titanium fingers around his delicate little throat and Bucky would have lied if he’d said that didn’t turn him on so much – the thought of being so completely in control over him, with the power to just exert a little more pressure if he wanted…

His other hand buried into that soft, golden hair, gently tugging at it as he kept the metal one on the side of Steve’s neck, just brushing his thumb over Steve’s throat every so often because he REALLY seemed to like that. Suddenly, Steve rolled Bucky over on top of him, ankles around his calves, hands on his lower back and pressing up into him, making soft little noises that drove Bucky just crazy.

He felt his shirt being tugged up and, that hot little mouth leaving his as Steve tugged it over Bucky’s head. Bucky sat back slightly as he dropped the garment to the floor, not noticing at first as Steve ducked his head to press his lips to the scar tissue surrounding the metal embedded at Bucky’s shoulder. Bucky just about lost his mind in that moment, because NOBODY had touched him there since doctors took off the bandages a year or so ago, and it was so sensitive. Not painful, but sensitive in the way that only scar tissue can be, the skin thinner and twisted where the nerves bunch up on themselves and Bucky couldn’t stop the groan from escaping his mouth, so loud that the other two next door were sure as hell to hear it. It was just so intimate, watching Steve run his lips over the puckered scars, chasing them with his fingers as he delicately traced the bumps and lines. And then Steve looked up at him with those big blue eyes, and Bucky knew he was a goner.

They never lost eye contact as Bucky dipped his head and rubbed his mouth over Steve’s, feeling Steve’s soft exhale and swollen lips against his own, taking his time brushing their lips together with gentle little touches. Bucky’s hands slid along Steve’s skin under his t-shirt, feeling sharp ribs and the dip of his stomach as he drew it up over Steve’s head and tossed it to the side.

In the soft yellow light of his single bedroom lamp, Bucky couldn’t help the sharp intake of breath as he pushed up onto his hand and stared at his boyfriend, all huge dark eyes and pale luminous skin, a thin, straight scar running down the centre of his chest which was rising and falling rapidly with every breath.

“You’re so beautiful…” he murmured, watching a pale rose flush form over Steve’s face, highlighting the tiny freckles that peppered the skin over his nose and cheeks. Bucky wanted to spend the night kissing each and every single one of them.

He dropped back down to his elbows and cupped the back of Steve’s graceful neck with both hands, pulling him into a soft kiss. God he wanted to be inside Steve everywhere all at once so much that it was torture to feel all of that silky skin brush tantalizingly against his own.

Steve moaned softly as Bucky licked into his mouth, curling his tongue filthily around Steve’s as he slid the palm of his metal hand around to lightly grip the front of Steve’s throat again. Steve’s mouth fell open with a long deep inhale of pure lust as his head lolled backward, and Bucky held his neck firmly following Steve’s backward motion with his mouth so he could lick a wet path from his collarbone to his jaw line. As Steve exhaled in a rush, his legs wrapped tightly around Bucky’s thighs, heels digging in and pulling Bucky closer that he thought he could get to another person without being completely inside of them.

At some point, Steve had unbuttoned his jeans without Bucky even realizing it and Bucky shuddered when Steve’s beautiful artist’s hands slipped down the back of the loose waistband of his jeans and under his underwear to grip his ass. He buried his face into the crook of Steve’s neck, teeth nipping and lips smoothing over the skin as he pressed down, wondering how it would feel to have Steve’s hands grabbing him, encouraging him deeper while Bucky slid in and out of him.

He rolled his hips harder and felt Steve doing the same, their gasps and whimpers filled the warm air in the room. Bucky rose up on his arms above Steve just so he could watch his boyfriend writhe beneath him. God he made the most beautiful faces when he was lost in pleasure.

Suddenly Steve looked up through impossibly long eyelashes, took one hand off of Bucky’s ass, and brought his hand to his mouth to lick his thumb. Bucky watched, almost paralyzed with lust, afraid to even breathe, while Steve reached down to grip the front of Bucky boxer briefs, exposing the tip of his dick, wet with pre-come. He swiped his wet thumb across the sensitive slit and looked boldly into Bucky’s eyes as he sucked his thumb and Bucky couldn’t hold back the desperate whine that came rushing out when he exhaled. He dived down and kissed Steve deeply, feeling the little blond beginning to shudder against him as their movements became more frantic.

Bucky didn’t think he could last too much longer with the combination of Steve’s heels in his ass urging him to go faster and harder and the little noises Steve was making in his ear. They were just grinding like a couple of horny teenagers but it was the most erotic thing Bucky had ever done, because he was so damn into this tiny, beautiful guy. He’d been dreaming of getting moments like this with Steve, of seeing what Steve’s face would look like when he came and finally he was going to get to see that. He was right on the edge with all that friction and Steve had to be almost there too, mouth hanging slack as he panted hard and those lust-darkened blue eyes fixed on his. It would just take a minute and finally…

“Barnes, have you seen the…OH SHIT! JESUS FUCKING CHRIST BRO! I’M SORRY!”

The door to the bedroom crashed open and Clint blundered in, taking in the sight of Bucky, bare-assed and grinding on top of Steve’s half-naked body and immediately clapped his hands over his eyes. Bucky rolled off and to the side as he grabbed his blanket to cover himself and Steve.

“Fucking Christ, Barton! Learn to knock!” he yelled after his roommate who was swiftly backing out with his eyes squeezed shut, closing the door behind him.

Bucky could hear Sam and Natasha through the wall, laughing raucously, and rolled onto his back, groaning in frustration as he covered his face with his hands. After a minute he felt warm hands gently close over his wrists, and he lowered his hands to find Steve looking at him, bottom lip between his teeth as he tried to hide a grin. Their eyes locked and a second later they both dissolved into fits of giggles, Steve’s head falling forward onto Bucky’s chest as his shoulders shook with mirth.

He could feel the tension that had been building in his belly and his thighs start to dissipate quickly and knew that the moment was well and truly over. Bucky sighed as he rubbed his hand over Steve’s back, fingers tracing over the prominent bumps of his spine until his boyfriend finally stopped laughing and sat back, grinning at him.

 _“I think I should go home,”_ Steve signed.

_“Okay.”_

Steve slid out of Bucky’s arms and shuffled to the end of the bed, lowering his feet to the floor as he bent down to retrieve his t-shirt. Bucky noticed the way Steve’s spine curved slightly to the side as he straightened and pulled the garment over his head, his body suddenly covered up again. God, but he was so fucking cute, his blond hair a complete mess and sticking up at all angles where Bucky’s hands had been pulling at it, lips all pink and swollen from kissing.

Finally, properly dressed but looking no less debauched, Steve got to his feet and slid his hands into his pockets as he crossed to the bedroom door and paused, looking back over his shoulder as if considering something before hurrying back over. Putting a knee on the bed, Steve leaned over Bucky, pressing one soft, final kiss to his lips before sliding back off the bed and over to the door, pulling it open.

 _“Good night,”_ signed Steve, grinning.

_“Good night.”_

Steve ducked his head bashfully and went out, leaving Bucky’s door slightly ajar. Bucky lay for a few moments, listening to Sam saying goodbye to Nat and Clint, and he stayed that way until he heard the front door close.

“NATASHA!” he yelled, pulling himself into a sitting position and looking around for his shirt.

A minute later, both Clint and Natasha appeared in the doorway, Nat smirking whilst Clint remained suitably embarrassed.

“Bro, I’m really sorry. I was looking for the scissors and she told me you were still awake. I didn’t realise you had your boy in here, I swear…”

Bucky held up his hand.

“Clint, its fine. Honest. I’m not mad at you. You on the other hand,” he said, looking at Natasha who looked as unremorseful as ever, “Are in serious fucking trouble.”

Natasha laughed as she playfully shoved Clint out of the way and fell onto Bucky’s bed.

“Oh come on, it was fucking hilarious,” she replied. “Besides, you were making a lot of noise. Sam and I could barely watch the movie.”

“You mean you two were actually watching the movie?” Bucky said in surprise, raising his eyebrows.

In the doorway, Clint made a disgusted noise and walked off, his bedroom door slamming behind him a moment later. Nat smiled sweetly at him as she got up and walked over to Bucky’s wardrobe, pulling out an old flannel shirt that was too small for him now and began to unfasten the buttons of her dress.

“Excuse me? Of course we were. Not all of us are total sluts, you know.”

“I beg your pardon,” Bucky replied, throwing back his blanket to shimmy all the way out of his pants which were still unbuttoned and half way around his backside. “But I think you’ll find that I was a good boy until I met you, Natasha Romanoff. And then I might have turned into a slut for six weeks, but ever since then, I’ve been perfectly good.”

Natasha smirked at him as she slipped off her dress, kicking it into the corner of the room before throwing on Bucky’s old shirt and fastening the buttons.

He was used to this – Natasha climbing into bed with him after nights out. Nothing ever happened between the two of them, at least not since that first six weeks when Bucky had been eighteen and Natasha had been twenty. They had fast learned that they wanted different things and although Natasha had ended up as his best friend in the whole world, Bucky had never been dumb enough to go ‘there’ ever again. There was a reason that she was nicknamed The Black Widow.

This time, however, he grabbed one of his blankets and a pillow and climbed out of the bed as Natasha clambered in.

“You’re not sleeping with me tonight.” He announced, bundling the bedding up in his arms as he crossed to the door. “You can have the bed but I’m sleeping on the couch.”

“Seriously?” Natasha replied, eyebrows shooting up. “You’re that pissed off that you won’t share the bed with me?”

“No,” Bucky replied with a sigh, running a hand through his hair. “It’s because you and I have history, and I don’t want to do anything to jeopardize what I have with Steve.”

Natasha sat up and stared at him.

“Oh my God, you are so whipped. I mean, that’s really sweet and all, but that kid has you seriously by the balls already…”

“Whatever,” Bucky breathed, turning away and heading for the door.

He adored Natasha but sometimes she was as much the bane of his existence as she was his friend. There was always a way to get his own back though, and he stuck his head back around the door just before he closed it.

“Oh Nat? Just make sure you don’t sleep in any wet spots, okay”.

Bucky grinned to himself as he closed the door on Natasha’s muffled shrieks of horror and padded over to the couch.

~

Sam had sent Nancy Wilson a text as they left Bucky’s apartment, telling her that they were on their way back. It was rather late by this point and Steve wondered if his mother had been able to stay up talking all this time. Nancy was waiting at the building’s main door when they got there and Steve barely managed to gather enough wits to bid the Wilsons goodnight before making his way up the stairs to his apartment.

That night had been absolutely amazing and Steve could barely believe it had happened. Most of all, he couldn’t believe the things he had done. Admittedly, they hadn’t done anything much in the grand scheme of things, but that had most definitely been the heaviest make-out session Steve had ever had. The feel of Bucky’s body on his, the weight of him pressing Steve into the bed, lips on his skin and god, his cool metal hand around Steve’s throat had driven him almost crazy. Steve had never in his life thought he would enjoy that feeling, the light pressure against his carotid and over his windpipe, slowly and gently reducing the oxygen flow to his brain and making him as hard as fucking wood inside the confines of his pants.

More than that, but he realised with a jolt that he must literally trust Bucky with his life, because you didn’t just let anybody wrap their fingers around your throat.

Steve didn’t realise that he’d just been standing, staring at the wall until his mother touched his arm gently, making him jump half out of his skin. He looked at her with wide eyes as she raised her brow, a half-smile on her lips.

 _“Are you okay?”_ she signed.

Steve couldn’t make his hands work – he was still too dazed from his experience and so he just nodded, a slow, goofy smile spreading across his face as he let out a single laugh and shuffled past her to his room, completely unaware of Sarah Rogers clasping a hand over her mouth and laughing, shaking her head as her son walked straight into a wall.


	10. Chapter 10

Needless to say the events of what happened on Halloween night featured heavily in Steve’s thoughts for the rest of the week. He caught himself zoning out at work as he remembered what Bucky had looked like in the soft light of the bedroom, hair all loose and wild, the grey-blue of his eyes disappearing as his pupils got wider, making them almost black behind the remnants of the paint streaked across his face. Steve remembered the feel of the scars on Bucky’s shoulder, the way he’d thrown his head back at Steve’s touch, his eyes wide and mouth dropping open, chest heaving.

Steve also remembered the smaller things though, like Bucky’s hand linked through his as they sat in the movie theatre, the way Bucky buried his face in the crook of Steve’s neck during particularly frightening parts. Whereas thinking about Bucky’s body against his filled Steve with fire, the thought of his smile made Steve turn to jelly. He wanted his hands and his mouth all over that body, wanted to kiss Bucky for hours on end, but he also wanted to see Bucky laugh and see more of that little shy smile when he gave Steve something, as though he were so unsure of himself, searching for Steve’s approval. It was the most adorable thing and Steve couldn’t get enough.

He had to wonder if this was what falling in love was like.

Steve had never been in love - he’d never even had a romantic relationship before. Sure he’d liked people well enough and he’d definitely found more than his fair share to be attractive, but Bucky was on a different level. Everything about him was beautiful, part of him making Steve’s pulse race and the other part making Steve’s world stand still.

They sent their usual texts throughout the week and the odd picture message – Steve discovered a new Warhol that had been sent to them for cleaning and he took a picture of it, distinctly remembering that Bucky had once mentioned a fondness for that particular art. In return, Bucky sent him a photo, obviously taken by Nat or another friend, of Bucky swinging on the monkey bars in a kid’s play park, his hair half out of its ponytail and his smile so wide and carefree that it made Steve’s stomach flutter. He caught himself staring at that picture more often than he should have during a work day.

The only bad thing about the whole situation was that his mother didn’t seem to be getting any better. Sarah Rogers put on her brave face and smiled and joked, but Steve knew from her bloodshot eyes and the way her chest heaved that she was coughing her lungs up whenever his back was turned. He knew that her current treatment was aggressive but still couldn’t shake the unease that settled over his heart when he went to sleep at night.

~

Bucky and Natasha made up as they always did – she had sworn that she was sorry and would never do anything like that again and Bucky believed her to be sincere. He had rather surprised himself that night, to be honest. Bucky was not…direct…when it came to sex. Although to the outside world, Bucky was flirtatious and confident with an easy charm and a pretty smile. Teamed with long hair and leather jackets, Bucky seemed to be tainted by the ‘bad boy’ brush when he was actually anything but. Bucky Barnes was the sweet, studious, hard working boy who was a perfect gentleman to everyone from old ladies to toddlers and had never tried to overstep his boundaries once.

Yet he had found himself on top of Steve with his hands around that delicate throat, pressing the small, sharp body into the mattress while he bit and licked and kissed and squeezed with something bordering on aggression. It would have scared him if he hadn’t been quite sure that Steve had loved it, those hands pulling him closer, fingertips digging into his skin, the moans and sharp gasps and the way he arched into Bucky’s body at his touch.

He was still almost glad when Steve asked to meet him back at the book store coffee shop the following Saturday. The night of Halloween had been hot and heavy and quite frankly amazing, but he’d concerned himself a little by ending up so much more uninhibited with tiny little Steve than he’d meant to be. He’d been desperate to get Steve alone the weekend before, but now he was happy to be in public and surrounded by people, still getting to be with his gorgeous boyfriend but not having to worry about getting too heavy too fast. Because maybe it had been too fast…

Steve was sketching as Bucky worked on his composition, the pair of them working away in comfortable silence, looking up every so often to smile at each other, sometimes Steve nudging his foot against Bucky’s leg before they turned their attention back to their work. Every now and then he caught the eye of Connie, the store clerk, who beamed at him indulgently and he couldn’t help but grin back, even if his cheeks did start to turn pink.

Bucky had always been able to see music in people – they all had their own theme that went with their personality, their look, the way they walked. Everyone was different but he’d never felt it so strong as he felt it with Steve. He was like sunshine – warm through the window, the gentle dapple it cast when it shone through the summer leaves on trees, the shimmer on the water – all soft and bright and gentle, warming Bucky to his core yet with the ability to run so hot that Bucky could feel fire in his veins.

He closed his eyes and tapped his fingers lightly on the page in front of him, imagining the keys of the piano and the tune he’d first played a couple of weeks before, his mind adding new notes to it as he played it in his mind. After a few moments, Bucky opened his eyes and picked up his pencil to write it down, but caught a glance of Steve from the corner of his eye. The blond was staring at him, a small smile playing about his lips, hands unmoving on the page of his sketchbook.

 _“What?”_ Bucky signed, dropping his own pencil again.

Steve shook his head, smile widening.

 _“Nothing,”_ he replied. _“You’re fascinating to watch.”_

Bucky felt his cheeks grow warm and he glanced back down at his manuscript, biting back his smile. He couldn’t imagine being an interesting subject never mind fascinating, but he loved that Steve thought him so anyway. After a pause, Bucky looked back up.

_“What are you drawing?”_

Steve glanced at his page and then back at Bucky, grinning.

 _“Your arm,”_ he said, nodding to the bare expanse of close-fitting, overlapping metal plates visible under the short sleeve of his t-shirt.

Bucky looked down, his fingers automatically reaching to touch the cold metal.

_“Why?”_

Steve beamed at him.

 _“Because it’s beautiful,”_ he replied.

Bucky knew he was blushing furiously now, but still couldn’t stop the smile that spread across his face. ‘Beautiful’ had not really been a word Bucky would have used to describe his prosthetic, even if it was infinitely better in both aesthetic and function than the simpler one’s he’d been using since age sixteen. He’d been self-conscious about it for all that time, knowing fine well the stares that prosthetic limbs attracted, aware of the ugly scarring that amputation left behind, of the revulsion that most people seemed to feel. Not Steve though. Steve was something else.

 _“Thank you,”_ was all Bucky could manage to say.

Steve nodded again and bit his lip gently, his fingers tapping against his sketchbook as though he wanted to say something else, but was struggling with himself as to whether it was inappropriate or not. Bucky knew the look because he wore it a lot himself. He also knew exactly what Steve wanted to ask him and he picked up his pencil, writing the words down on a corner of his manuscript paper and tearing it off, passing it over.

Steve’s eyes widened as he read the words that Bucky had no idea how to sign: Meningococcal Septicaemia.

 _“That’s how I lost it,”_ he signed as Steve looked back up at him again.

“Fuck…” Steve said aloud.

Bucky laughed.

“Yeah,” he agreed.

 _“When?”_ signed Steve.

_“When I was sixteen.”_

Buck had been signing constantly with Clint around the house, and when he hadn’t been studying for school, he’d been learning more sign language from books and videos and apps, so although he wasn’t excellent yet, he was at least conversational. So over the next half hour, he told Steve all about it, sometimes having to write down things he didn’t know how to sign.

The truth was that Bucky had been playing piano since he could walk – an old upright piano had sat in his parents’ home, unused and dusty, and as a baby, Bucky had apparently just loved to sit and bash at the keys to make as much noise as possible. He’d never known a time that he hadn’t played and had reached grade eight at a relatively young age, being accepted into one of Juilliard’s youth programs before his parents had died and had carried on afterwards.

That had been until Bucky contracted meningitis. It could have been worse and he knew that – Bucky’s arm had been amputated just above the elbow and it had been hard to deal with, but he could have lost so much more than that. His foster parent had acted quickly and made the hard decisions without hesitation which had undoubtedly saved his life and his other limbs. She’d never allowed him to wallow in misery or self-pity afterwards either. The hardest thing for Bucky had been coming to terms that he could no longer play piano. His first love had been beyond his reach, but he had always been a natural at composition so Juilliard had allowed him into their program at eighteen.

He’d managed with a regular prosthetic until the previous year when he’d discovered a clinical trial running out of Columbia. He’d applied, gone through all the tests and had made the final cut for a new kind of prosthetic that was directly wired into the body’s nervous system with a mind to recover sensation and dexterity. They’d had to amputate the rest of his left arm and reinforce his collarbone, shoulder and some ribs with metal plating to take the weight, and he’d spent the better part of the rest of the year in physical therapy. The last six months had been amazing – tying shoelaces and opening jars and fastening button-front jeans were all just as thrilling as finally being able to get back to the piano. He was nowhere near as good as he used to be, but it didn’t matter because just being able to play was enough for him.

Steve watched him closely through the whole conversation, eyes following his fingers as they signed, often hesitantly. When Bucky finished, Steve was looking at him in awe.

 _“You’re amazing,”_ he signed.

 _“I’m not…”_ Bucky began, stopping as Steve nudged his leg with the tip of his Converse-clad foot.

 _“You are,”_ Steve insisted. “Overcoming something like that took courage and strength, and it is amazing.”

Bucky looked at his feet. It had been tough – the last year had probably been the worst and he might never have got through it without the support of his friends and foster family. He certainly hadn’t felt courageous of strong when he’d been collapsed on the floor in agony with the weight of his new prosthetic, crying in Natasha’s arms and wishing he’d never done it.

 _“It’s nothing compared to what you live with,”_ he signed slowly.

Steve stilled, peering at Bucky closely for a moment before signing his reply.

_“Being born Deaf isn’t a disability. It’s not something I’ve had to overcome. It’s just who I am – it’s my identity. I went to school with people just like me and we have our own community, our own language. It’s often frustrating when I’m not surrounded by other Deaf people but I don’t feel like it’s ever stopped me from living my life or doing what I love. Not like you.”_

Just like that, Bucky’s entire perspective shifted. He ducked his head, staring at his feet again as he processed the information, and when he lifted his head again, Steve was smiling at him. Bucky inclined his head towards Steve’s sketchpad.

_“Can I see?”_

Steve gave Bucky a look of mock horror and hugged the drawing to his chest before grinning at him.

 _“Not yet,”_ he signed.

Bucky smiled back.

_“When?”_

_“When it’s ready.”_

Steve closed his sketchbook and put it back in his bag before turning back to Bucky.

 _“I’ve got a small exhibit coming up in a few weeks. A contact through work is helping me set it up,”_ Steve signed, glancing away for a second. _“Would you come to it?”_

Bucky smiled, sitting forward in his chair and reaching forward to take Steve’s face in his hands, tilting it back up so that Steve was looking at him.

“I would love to,” Bucky told him, watching as Steve’s eyes lit up in the second before he leaned in to kiss him.

He could feel Steve smile against his lips as Bucky’s thumbs stroked over Steve’s cheekbones gently. It was soft and almost chaste, lasting just a moment before Steve pulled away, interrupted by a loud buzz and casting Bucky an apologetic look as he dug his phone out of his pocket.

 _“It’s my mother,”_ he signed.

 _“Okay,"_ Bucky responded, giving his boyfriend a reassuring smile.

They said goodbye, Steve kissing him softly one more time before turning to leave, moving his hips a little more than necessary and solely for Bucky’s benefit. Bucky didn’t realise he’d been staring after Steve with a huge dumb grin on his face until Connie loomed into view, arms crossed over her stomach and smirking at him.

“What?” he asked as she slid into Steve’s vacated chair.

“Just you two,” Connie replied, still grinning. “You’re so cute together. Jim and I were worried for a little while that it had all gone badly and that’s why you both hadn’t come back here. But it seems our concern was completely unfounded and that you were just otherwise occupied.”

Bucky raised an eyebrow.

“Jim?”

Connie jabbed her thumb in the direction of the barista who gave Bucky a short wave and a thumbs-up. Bucky smiled and shook his head.

“You know, we had a bet going,” Connie continued. “Jim said you’d never ask the cute blond guy out and I said you would.”

“What did you win?” Bucky asked with a chuckle.

“He has to by me dinner,” Connie replied smugly.

“Good luck with that.”

“You too,” said Connie as she got back up. “I mean it – you two are adorable together. I hope it works out.”

“Me too,” Bucky murmured as Connie walked back to her cash register.

God, he really hoped it would.

~

November really started to come into its own with the autumn chill turning into winter cold overnight, the trees in Central Park almost bare and whatever sun that decided to shine was watery and bitter.

Steve and Bucky continued to communicate during the week in their usual manner, each lighting up when they received a text or a picture or the occasional snapchat. Steve hated that they had to wait a week to see each other again, but he knew that Bucky needed to study and the likelihood of him getting much of that done around Steve would be slim. Besides, their relationship was still very new and they were still figuring each other out which seemed to be easier through texts than face to face. All the same, Steve fought a daily battle with wanting to turn up on Bucky’s doorstep after work to kiss his boyfriend senseless, especially having found out the story of how Bucky lost his arm.

He was thrilled when Sam suggested that they go out dancing together the following weekend. It had been a good few weeks since Steve had been clubbing and he found that he’d missed the excitement of it. It also would give him ample opportunity to get himself pressed as close to Bucky as possible, satisfying some part of the craving Steve had for him.

It hit him almost as soon as they entered HYDRA, the elation he felt when he got inside a club with the all encompassing darkness punctuated by bright flashing lights, the bass beneath his feet travelling all the way through his body to change the beat of his heart. Steve loved it – it made him feel…different, bolder and maybe more confident. It was one of the main reasons that he’d dragged Bucky onto that dance floor all those weeks ago when he was still just Hot Ponytail Guy from the bookstore.

They had lost Sam and Nat within moments of entering the club, but Steve wasn’t concerned. His best friend was playing his cards close to his chest about Nat and even though Bucky had given Steve the impression that she was more focussed on her career than having a relationship, it wasn’t as though Sam wasn’t a grown man capable of making his own decisions. Besides, it left him free to drag his boyfriend out onto the dance floor and into the sea of sweating, grinding bodies.

Bucky looked gorgeous, wearing dark jeans and t-shirt, hair escaping the ponytail in the way Steve had come to adore, his eyes closed as he moved to the beat. They flew open again the second Steve’s fingers slipped into the belt-loops of Bucky’s jeans and pulled him in, sliding his knee between Bucky’s thighs. His movements ground to a halt as he stared at Steve, the flashing lights casting shadows on his face. Steve smiled at him, winding his arms around Bucky’s neck and pulling him down for a kiss.

God, but he loved the feel of Bucky’s mouth against his, those arms so strong as they pulled him in, wrapping around Steve’s waist and holding him close. Steve’s heart beat hard and fast, in time to the beat of the pounding bass and his breathing quickened when Bucky’s tongue slipped through his parted lips and brushed gently against his own, softly teasing and driving Steve crazy. They moved together, Steve on his toes and his hands in Bucky’s hair, pressed against each other and swaying slowly despite the quick beat. It took less than a minute for Steve to feel like he was on fire, burning with the desire to have Bucky’s hands all over him and he felt the harsh moan that dragged from his throat to be swallowed by their kiss.

Suddenly, Bucky was drawing back, holding Steve at arm’s length by his upper arms, eyes dark and panting heavily. Steve looked at him in concern.

_“What’s wrong?”_

Bucky closed his eyes and shook his head vigorously, and Steve was all at once very concerned that he’d done something wrong until Bucky’s eyes reopened and he smiled, hands dropping from Steve’s arms.

 _“After the other week,”_ Bucky signed, _“I don’t want you to feel like I’m pushing you.”_

Steve frowned in confusion.

_“What?”_

He watched Bucky take a deep breath and try again.

 _“I don’t want you to feel like you have to do something you’re not ready for,”_ he signed slowly, hesitantly. _“If you just want to stick to kissing, that’s fine. I really like you and I want to take things at your pace. I don’t want you to feel like I’m pushing you for more if that’s not what you want.”_

A slow smile spread over Steve’s face.

 _“You’re not pushing me into anything,”_ he signed in reply, taking a step closer.

Slowly, he reached out and hooked his fingers into the waistband of Bucky’s jeans, pulling him close again, looking up into those beautiful grey-blue eyes. Steve took hold of Bucky’s left hand and slipped it under the hem of his shirt, feeling the goose bumps rise as the cool metal touched his heated skin. He studied Bucky’s reaction, his throat bobbing as he swallowed, pupils dilating, chest rising and falling rapidly. Gently, he took hold of Bucky’s right hand and placed it on the side of his neck, his heart fluttering lightly when Bucky’s thumb brushed down his jaw and stopped short of his throat. Christ, but he loved that so much.

It must have showed on his face, just how much he liked it, how much he wanted it, because the next thing Steve knew, Bucky’s mouth was back on his, crushing their lips together. Bucky’s right hand cupped the back of Steve’s neck and his left was on the small of Steve’s back under his shirt, pressing him into Bucky’s body. Steve’s hands wound themselves into Bucky’s hair again and if he would have sworn that, had they not been in a club and surrounded by people, he would have been tearing Bucky’s clothes off by that point.

They let their hands roam as much as was decent in public, slipped under shirts, dipping into waistbands, carding through hair, and stroking whatever bare skin they could get to, kissing hard and furious until they were panting and dizzy and drunk from it. They continued like that for the whole night, pulling apart and gasping for breath every so often, smiling as they looked into each other’s eyes, hands smoothing over faces and hair until one of them caught the other’s lips again.

Sam and Nat practically had to pry them apart at the end of the night, Bucky walking backwards down the street as he watched Steve go, grinning from ear to ear. Steve deflected Sam’s teasing all the way back to his apartment, and Steve took the stairs as fast as he could manage, running into his room and collapsing belly-first onto his bed, taking out his phone and typing a message to Bucky.

**{ Steve: Just so we’re clear – I want your hands all over me, I want your mouth everywhere that it can get to, and I want to feel your body pressed into mine. And I’m ready for that at any time you want to give it. Is that okay with you?}**

He all but held his breath as he waited for a reply, heart pounding until the phone buzzed in his hand.

**{ Bucky: It’s very okay with me. Very VERY okay. }**

Steve laughed aloud and buried his face into the pillow, grinning like a madman. He’d put the ball in Bucky’s court. Now all he had to do was wait for play.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, if you've read any of my novel-length fic before, you'll know that I add tags as I go because I don't always know what I'm going to do with it until I get further in. That being said, the sex tags will start to show up after this chapter and Melly and I have a Thing that we desperately want to do (a few chapters down the line) that may not be to everybody's taste. It's not going to be awful...at least we hope not. We thought it was hot as fuck, but either way, we'd advise you to check the updated tags at the start before you read. We will warn you when we get the the chapter with the Thing, so you can skip it if you like. But...just so you're aware!

“You are coming though, right James?”

Natasha was hanging onto the lapels of Bucky’s jacket, stepping backwards gracefully as Bucky tried to get past her and into his own apartment to no avail. She bat her eyelashes at him and threw him a pretty smile, and in the end Bucky stopped trying to fight and just laughed, standing still and wrapping his arms around her waist.

“Of course I’m coming. I come to every one, don’t I?”

“Yeah, but you have a new beau now,” Natasha countered, smoothing down the front of Bucky’s jacket with the flat of her hands. “I thought you might have better things to do with your time than come to my premieres.”

Bucky frowned at her as he herded her backwards into the apartment.

“You really think I’d do that to you?” he asked.

Nat released her hold on Bucky’s jacket and shrugged.

“I dunno,” she replied quietly as she stepped back and started to unfasten her coat. “This is just kind of a new situation for us and I know that you’re totally in love with Steve…”

“I’m not totally in love with him,” Bucky interjected.

Natasha snorted.

“Yes you are. You’re head over fucking heels and I’ve never seen you so into somebody like you are with him. I just thought since, y’know, it’s different this time that you might not come.”

Bucky hung up his own jacket and looked at her carefully, ever so slightly hurt that his friend would think he’d ditch her so easily.

Natasha had joined the New York Ballet fresh out of Juilliard and it didn’t take her long to work her way up to premier ballerina. Since she’d started, Bucky had been to every single premiere show that the Ballet did, and he wasn’t about to stop. They were best friends – they had supported each other and kicked each other’s butts when they’d needed it, they understood each other better than anyone else in the whole world, and Natasha had single-handedly pulled Bucky up out of the depths of despair over the last year. Hell would freeze over before he abandoned Natasha Romanoff, and even then Bucky wasn’t entirely sure he’d do it.

“Nat,” he said, grasping the tops of her slim arms and rubbing his thumbs gently against them. “I will be there on Saturday night to watch you dance, just like I have done every single season for the last four years. I’m not going to stop doing that just because I have a boyfriend that I might…maybe…possibly be totally in love with.”

A wicked grin spread across Natasha’s face and Bucky bit back a smile.

“I fucking knew it,” she murmured.

“Shut up,” retorted Bucky as he let go of her and turned to head into the kitchen, Natasha trotting at his heels like a retriever.

“So, speaking of boyfriends,” Nat continued casually, “Are you bringing Steve?”

“Do you want me to?”

Natasha’s eyebrows rose as she accepted a cold can of vanilla Coke from Bucky and leaned against the counter.

“Well sure,” she replied. “I just wasn’t sure if, y’know, ballet was Steve’s thing.”

“Why? Because he’s Deaf?”

“No! Well…no. Are you trying to make me say something insensitive?”

She frowned at him and Bucky couldn’t help but laugh.

“I’m sorry, that was totally cruel. I asked him the other day – he said he’d love to come and watch you dance.”

That made her smile and she set her Coke on the counter in order to hug him. Bucky was possibly one of the only people in the whole world who knew how sweet and affectionate Natasha Romanoff could be. Most people just saw her as ruthless and determined, and possibly quite willing to cut throats to get where she wanted to be. Bucky never once argued against that, but he was honoured to get to see a side to her that few others did – once Natasha trusted you, you had a loyal friend for life.

“You have told him that it’s formal dress for ballet premieres, right? No skinny jeans and Converse!”

“He knows,” Bucky replied with a grin.

Bucky was actually very much looking forward to seeing Steve all nicely turned out. He always looked gorgeous in Bucky’s eyes, but this would be something new. Bucky couldn’t wait.

~

He spent the entirety of Saturday playing piano in the small dance studio with the mirrored walls for Natasha and her dance partner until even the fingers on his metal hand felt numb. Ballet dancers often practiced until their feet bled and then went out and danced a whole show, and the New York dancers were no exception. He’d never known people so tough, but he had extra sympathy for the guy dancing opposite Natasha, as not only was he still smiling through the pain, but he was smiling through Nat yelling at him for not being completely perfect.

With three hours to go until curtain-up, Bucky was finally permitted to leave and he practically ran home to shower and get dressed before going to pick up Steve.

Bucky had spent the entire week thinking about that text Steve had sent him the previous Saturday night after HYDRA. He’d been so concerned about moving too fast with Steve, but after their exchange in the club, the hours they’d spent kissing and getting their hands on any part of the other that they could, Steve had pretty much given Bucky permission to come and get it. Bucky couldn’t wait to get his chance.

Tonight, however, was for Natasha, and if Bucky got the extra added bonus of taking his boyfriend out for a classy date at the ballet, then it was all good. He brushed his hair and tied it back neatly, shined his shoes and put on his best black suit and silver-striped tie, casting a quick glance in the mirror on his way out of the door. He looked good.

Even though Steve only lived fifteen minutes’ walk from Bucky’s own apartment, he jumped in a cab to get there quicker and was standing outside the building in five.

**{ Bucky: I’m here x }**

**{Steve: Almost ready. Come up. Third floor. }**

Seconds later, the door buzzed and Bucky pulled it open, taking the stairs two at a time until he reached the third floor and looked down the corridor to find Steve casually leaning against the frame of an open door, grinning at him and wearing the nicest dark blue suit that Bucky had ever seen in his life. His jaw all but dropped as he got closer because not only was that suit nice, but it was three-piece and perfectly tailored to Steve’s shape. It had to have cost a small fortune.

 _“You look amazing,”_ Bucky signed, his eyes looking up and down Steve’s body with absolutely no shame whatsoever.

Steve smirked.

 _“Thank you,”_ he responded.

_“How do you even own a suit like that?”_

_“The Met has a lot of Galas,”_ Steve told him with a casual shrug. _“Have to invest in at least one decent outfit if you work there.”_

 _“It looks good,”_ Bucky repeated.

Steve grinned and glanced away for a second before pushing himself off the doorframe.

_“Come in and meet my mother while I finish getting ready.”_

Bucky nodded and followed Steve inside, his heart beating fast. When it came to Steve’s ma, he had absolutely no idea what to expect – Bucky knew she had cancer, that it was advanced, and that she was pretty sick, but apart from the colourful silk scarf wrapped around her head and the dark circles under her eyes, he’d never have guessed Sarah Rogers to be any of those things.

She was beautiful, small and delicate and fair-skinned, and when she smiled Bucky knew instantly where Steve’s trademark grin came from.

“You must be Bucky,” she said as he rounded the corner of the hallway and spotted her sitting in a chair in the living room with a blanket wrapped around her legs. “You’ll have to excuse me for not getting up – my legs are a little jelly-like today.”

Bucky gave her his most charming smile as he stepped towards her and took her extended hand in his – it was tiny and delicate and freezing cold, so completely unlike Steve’s.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you ma’am,” he replied politely.

First impressions were always important, especially when you looked like Bucky Barnes. At least he was looking all neat and tidy for a change. Steve’s mother beamed at him.

“Please, call me Sarah,” she replied. “It’s really nice to finally meet you. I was starting to think I’d be dead and buried before we actually met.”

Bucky’s eyes widened and he looked at his feet, shifting uncomfortably on them until Sarah Rogers began to laugh.

“I’m sorry,” she said, motioning for him to sit down on the couch. “Gallows humour. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

Bucky huffed out a laugh and sat heavily on the couch, raising a hand to his hair to smooth it back, only to stop half way and drop his hand to his lap again.

“It’s quite alright, ma’am…I mean, Sarah.”

She laughed again, her blue eyes studying him closely. Bucky resisted the urge to physically sit on his hands to stop him from fidgeting.

“So, Bucky, I hear you’re a composer.”

“Yes ma’am…”

He kicked himself mentally for saying it again.

“At Juilliard?”

“Yes.”

“That’s prestigious,” she said with a smile. “You must be very good.”

“More like just very lucky,” Bucky replied with a smile.

“I don’t believe it,” Sarah replied. “Nobody gets into Juilliard by luck. I know – I tried to be a ballerina once but I wasn’t good enough. Luckily, I was better suited to nursing than dancing.”

Bucky grinned.

“My friend is a ballerina,” he said. “That’s who we’re going to see tonight.”

“Is this Nat?” Sarah Rogers asked.

Bucky raised his eyebrows, surprised.

“Er…yeah.”

Sarah smirked.

“I’m very close friends with Sam Wilson’s mother – apparently he’s been talking about her non-stop since they met.”

“Really?” Bucky asked, grinning.

“Absolutely. We think he’s smitten.”

“Well, best of luck to him,” he replied, genuinely.

Sarah smiled warmly at him.

“So, do you go to the ballet a lot?”

“Not really,” Bucky told her, feeling a little more relaxed. “I go to every premiere show for Natasha’s benefit, and obviously I love the music, but I’m generally not an avid ballet fan. I’m glad Steve agreed to come with me, but I just really hope he doesn’t get bored.”

Sarah began to laugh.

“Steve can be dangerous when he gets bored. When he was in kindergarten, he got bored during lunch because they wouldn’t let him out for recess until the other children finished their lunches. He was tired of sitting at the table, so he pretended to play dead.”

Bucky leaned forward in delight.

“He played dead?!”

“Ohhh yes, he fooled everyone too. They said he just fell gracefully to the ground and didn’t respond to any attempts to ‘wake him’ up. So they called an ambulance.”

Bucky clapped his hand over his mouth and laughed.

“Did they take him to the hospital?”

“No…when the paramedics came in, Steve cracked an eye and realized that he might have played dead a little too well so he leaped up, scaring his teacher half to death, and ran outside toward the playground like a bolt of lightning. If he plays dead at the ballet, my advice is to try tickling him before you call 911.”

Bucky threw back his head and laughed loudly, imagining tiny little Steve, all elbows and knobbly knees and big blue eyes bounding up and fleeing out of the door, leaving everyone gaping in surprise at his miraculous recovery.

“I’ll bear that in mind,” he said, grinning.

A small cough, made them both look up and the laughter caught in Bucky’s throat as his eyes fell on Steve. He thought his heart might have stopped for a moment, because if he’s ever thought Steve was beautiful the way he normally was, it was nothing compared to how he looked at that moment with his form-fitting suit bringing out the sky-blue of his eyes and his hair perfectly styled away from his face. Bucky may have inhaled sharply.

Steve gave him a shy smile as he tugged the front of his suit jacket and glanced down at the floor bashfully.

 _“Will I do?”_ he signed.

Bucky stood up slowly, a smile spreading across his face as he crossed over to Steve and tucked a finger gently under his boyfriend’s chin, raising his head so those beautiful eyes met his own.

“You look gorgeous,” he said.

Steve bit his lower lip, a beautiful rose-pink flush colouring his cheeks as he beamed back at Bucky and took a deep breath before looking past him to his mother. In the moment that Steve had appeared, Bucky had practically forgotten that Sarah Rogers had even been there.

 _“Will you be okay?”_ Steve asked her.

“Don’t worry about me,” Sarah replied aloud, signing as she spoke. “The neighbour will check on me every half hour until bedtime.”

Steve nodded and took another deep breath before turning back to Bucky.

_“Ready to go?”_

_“Yes.”_

Bucky grinned and raised his hand in a brief wave to Steve’s mother.

“It was real nice meeting you, Ms Rogers.”

“You too, Bucky,” she called, smirking as Steve’s hand linked with his own and Bucky felt himself pulled towards the door.

They were barely outside the apartment and the door shut behind them before Bucky found himself grasped firmly by the lapels of his suit jacket and pulled down, his lips meeting Steve’s before he could even utter a noise of surprise.

He sighed happily into the kiss, sliding one hand around that tiny waist while the other went up to cup the side of Steve’s face, Bucky’s thumb gently stroking over his cheek. Steve made a small sound, ever so soft and quiet into Bucky’s mouth as their tongues brushed lightly against each other and Bucky didn’t think he’d ever tire of those noises. If anything, he wanted to see if he could make them louder.

After a few moments, Steve pulled back and smiled at him, smoothing out the front of Bucky’s suit jacket before stepping back.

 _“We don’t want to be late,”_ he signed before turning around and walking towards the stairwell.

Bucky bit his lip and grinned as he followed Steve, as if in a dream. As he caught up and linked their hands together again, Bucky thought that he might just follow Steve anywhere.

~

Steve’s only experience with ballet had been a production of ‘The Nutcracker’ he’d seen on a school trip as a child, too young to remember much except the excitement he felt when the tree began growing taller until it was larger than life. His mother had less than pleased later that evening when her curious child knocked their own Christmas tree over in the living room because he was trying to reach a particular toy soldier ornament.

Whilst a ballet production wasn’t normally something he would go out of his way to see, he felt a little thrill of excitement when the lights dimmed and Bucky flashed him a gorgeous smile in the dark. The curtain opened as the orchestra began playing, and he could feel the slight vibrations from the music but he also noticed Bucky’s grip on his hand grow tighter. Steve glanced over and smiled at the look of joy on Bucky’s face. He could feel Bucky’s fingers squeezing his hand rhythmically and realized that Bucky was automatically keeping time with the music without even realizing it. Steve couldn’t hear the music but he was still experiencing it in a whole new way through the pressure on his hand and the vibrations that surrounded him. He settled back and watched the dancers whirl onto the stage.

Natasha was absolutely beautiful in the principal role as Juliet. She spun and balanced gracefully and was lifted effortlessly by her partners. It would have been easy for Steve to get caught up in the story that the dancers were telling through their powerful and elegant movements but he found himself absolutely mesmerized by Bucky. “Dance of the Knights” seemed to provoke the strongest response in him. Bucky didn’t even notice Steve’s eyes on him as he inhaled sharply and sat forward in his seat, lost in the music.

For the first time, Steve felt a pang of regret in his heart that this was something he wouldn’t ever be able to share with his boyfriend. This was his first time witnessing Bucky’s passion for music and he couldn’t help but wonder if Bucky would ever have any misgivings about being with someone who couldn’t fully share his experience. As if he could sense Steve’s sadness, Bucky suddenly looked over and his eyes softened as he met Steve’s gaze. He raised their entwined hands and softly kissed the back of Steve’s hand, his lips lingering sweetly.

“You okay?” Bucky mouthed and Steve nodded.

Bucky gently rubbed the backs of Steve’s fingers against his cheek. When he lowered their hands back to the armrest between them, he mouthed “I’m so glad you’re here” and Steve couldn’t help but smile.

He suddenly remembered Bucky’s helplessly lost expression as he turned his head sideways to study a Picasso during their first date at The Met and how he’d held Steve’s hand and smiled at Steve’s excitement as he was tugged from one piece of artwork to the next. Steve thought that maybe just being there to support each other, close enough to hold hands was more than enough. He knew that he wouldn’t care if Bucky thought of Leonardo, Donatello, Raphael, and Michelangelo only as Ninja Turtles as long as he was by Steve’s side.

When Bucky nudged him with his shoulder and winked, Steve felt all of his doubts fade away. It was almost impossible to feel anything but incandescent happiness when he was with Bucky and, in his heart, he was pretty sure that this was what falling in love felt like.

After two hours, the ballet was almost over and Steve wasn’t surprised by the last scene. He was extremely familiar with the play, having read it in 9th grade and then again in college. He was, however, surprised by his own reaction to it.

Romeo entered and saw Juliet lying on the stone bier in the middle of the stage. Steve covered his mouth with his free hand as over and over Romeo lifted Juliet, dipped her back down to the stage, and shook her shoulders as if begging her to wake up before finally falling to his knees in grief. He blinked back tears when Juliet tasted the poison on her lover’s lips and threw her arms to the sky in a silent scream of anguish and he felt Bucky let go of his hand to slip a comforting arm around his shoulders. He leaned into Bucky’s solid warmth as Juliet died onstage and the curtain closed. Bucky’s never withdrew his arm, even as they stood to give Natasha and her partner a standing ovation.

 _“She was amazing,”_ Steve signed, feeling slightly breathless.

Bucky grinned at him, finally withdrawing his arm in order to reply.

_“I bet you’ve never seen anything so beautiful.”_

_“Yes, I have,”_ Steve signed immediately, looking directly into Bucky’s eyes.

Not even the grace of Natasha Romanoff could compare to how beautiful James Buchanan Barnes was when he got involved and lost in music.

The grin softened and Bucky bit his lip a little, looking at his feet bashfully as the house lights went up. People around them started to move and Steve caught hold of Bucky’s hand, raising it to his lips and pressing a small kiss to the back of it before giving a small incline of his head towards the aisle.

Bucky smiled back and moved, herding Steve in front of him and shielding him from the crowd swarming towards the doors as the audience hastened to exit. It was like following the flow of a stream, people filtering past them at the sides, penning them in until they all spilled out of the doors and into the atrium. Suddenly he felt Bucky’s left hand around his wrist, cool metal on warm skin as he was tugged to the side and behind a pillar. He caught the mischievous grin on Bucky’s face in the split second before both of those strong arms wrapped around him and pulled him into a kiss.

Steve felt his body tingle with the thrill of kissing Bucky, just out of sight of the crowds of ridiculously cultured people, one of his boyfriend’s hands buried in his hair while the other gripping his hip firmly. The kiss became heated and passionate quite quickly, Steve’s fingers digging hard into the curve of Bucky’s behind, pulling him closer and Bucky’s tongue delved insistently between Steve’s lips. Steve needed to get him alone and fast.

They broke apart, panting, and Steve watched as Bucky looked around from behind the pillar. The crowds had mostly disappeared and he found himself being pulled by the hand towards a set of double doors and down a dark corridor. Steve had no idea if Bucky even knew where he was going, remembering a split second before they entered a small rehearsal studio that Bucky worked here at weekends.

Steve gasped as his back slammed hard against the wall and he stared as Bucky wasted no time falling to his knees in front of him. He grabbed Steve’s belt, fingers scrabbling against the buckle as he looked up at Steve for permission. Steve had been waiting since that kiss in Central Park to get here, to this exact point, with Bucky on his knees, pupils blown and biting that plush bottom lip in anticipation, but he realised with a jolt that he was way out of his depth. He wanted it so badly, but now he was here he wasn’t sure if he was trembling through fear or lust.

He reached down and caressed Bucky’s jaw, watching as Bucky leaned into his touch. Steve slid his other hand into the thick dark hair that was falling around Bucky’s face, pushing it back tenderly as he took a deep breath in an attempt to steady his nerves. Since his hands were busy, all Steve could do was nod.

“Yes…” he whispered, not entirely sure if any sound made it past his lips until Bucky nodded too and lowered his eyes to deal with the belt buckle.

Bucky un-tucked Steve’s dress shirt slowly, breath ghosting over his skin in the instant before he inched his face forward and pressed his lips to Steve’s stomach. Bucky sucked and licked all over the flat expanse as his hands unbuttoned Steve’s pants. Steve could feel the vibrations of Bucky’s moan as he mouthed over the boxer briefs that covered Steve’s cock. It felt amazing, so warm and sweet, but it was nothing compared to five seconds later when he watched Bucky pull the waistband down and saw those pouty red lips close over the head of his dick.

Steve threw his head back instinctively, inhaling sharply so that he didn’t moan out loud and get them caught, but as he did, he caught sight of their reflections in the huge floor-to-ceiling mirrors that lined the walls. He watched, fascinated as his mouth dropped open when Bucky took Steve’s cock in all the way and he gasped.

He loved the way he looked reflected in that mirror - his face all flushed and his lips all red where he was biting at them, watching his teeth drag across his bottom lip as Bucky’s mouth slowly pulled up his shaft and sucked just that little bit harder, the way his own mouth dropped open at the pressure. He could see Bucky’s head moving back and forth, and he was desperate to see Bucky’s face as he sucked Steve off, but he was transfixed by his own. Panting hard, Steve dug his fingers into the back of Bucky’s ponytail and pulled.

It was like watching a movie, because Steve had looked at his reflection in the mirror a million times over the years and he’d never seen this person looking back at him. This Steve Rogers had hair falling in his face and was currently shuddering with pleasure. This Steve Rogers was leaning indolently back against a wall with his tie askew and his trousers unbuttoned, licking his lips while he caressed the hair of the stunning man on his knees in front of him.

When he finally managed to tear his eyes away from his own reflection and look back down at Bucky, the air was almost knocked out of him by the flash of white-hot heat in his belly that made his thighs tremble, because while Steve had been watching himself, Bucky had been watching HIM. Those grey-blue eyes were huge and dark, and fixed completely on him in the gloom of the practice room, and Steve wasn’t entirely sure if he was more turned on by that or by the sight of Bucky’s wet, swollen mouth wrapped around his dick and his fingers lightly gripping the back of Steve’s thighs as he moved, taking Steve all the way into his mouth with his nose buried in the thick thatch of coarse hair at Steve’s crotch, breath coming in hot bursts against Steve’s skin.

He knew that he moaned, and he knew it was loud because it raked at his throat, but fuck, this was the best feeling in the world - his cock nestled in the hot wetness of Bucky’s sinful mouth. He was close and he knew that too, because he could feel his balls tighten and his thighs shake uncontrollably, his lungs feeling like they might burst with how heavy he was breathing.

Bucky slid back until just the tip of Steve’s cock was resting against his lips, mouthing against it softly. He couldn’t get enough of watching those gorgeous lips on him, that wicked tongue lapping and licking over him. Steve slowly released his hold on Bucky’s hair and watched as Bucky’s mouth slid effortlessly back to the base of his shaft.

Steve didn’t even get the chance to think about if he wanted to come watching his own face or Bucky’s as that sweet mouth took him deep, his cock hitting the back of Bucky’s throat as he swallowed. Steve could feel the tightness and the heat ripple all the way up and down his shaft, and it was enough to send him over the edge while staring directly into Bucky’s eyes.

He could feel the vibrations on his shaft as Bucky moaned softly around him as swallowed every single drop that Steve shot into his mouth. He tensed, mouth hanging open in a silent cry, fingers tightening in Bucky’s hair so hard that his knuckles went white.

The aftershocks rippled through him for a good minute afterwards as he struggled to breathe again, eyes unable to stop watching as Bucky’s rough tongue scraped at the underside of his shaft when he pulled up and off, pressing a small kiss to the head of Steve’s dick.

Panting, Steve dragged Bucky to his feet, catching his mouth in a rough kiss, his own tongue pushing insistently between Bucky’s swollen lips, desperate to taste himself. It was a lingering, bitter taste but God he wanted it so badly. He couldn’t wait to get on his own knees and swallow Bucky down, make his boyfriend moan and gasp and shake, and he was just about to sink down when he felt the wall shake as a door slammed shut somewhere. Bucky jumped, pulling away from him quickly, eyes wide.

Nobody was there yet, but judging by the look on Bucky’s face, it wouldn’t be long until there was. They had maybe thirty seconds to get out of there, and Steve hastily stuffed himself back in his pants, his fingers trembling.

~

When Bucky and Steve re-entered the now-dimly lit lobby, Bucky was surprised to find that they were the only ones left aside from a janitor who eyed their rumpled clothing and flushed cheeks and gave them a wry salute. He gave Steve’s hand a little squeeze as they jogged across the marble floor to the giant glass doors that led outside. The contrast of the heat from inside the building, not to mention the body heat that they had built up in the practice room, and the freezing night air made them both shiver and laugh.

Steve’s giggles turned to coughs as he reached for his inhaler and Bucky wrapped an arm around him and pulled him close to keep him warm as he hailed a cab. Thankfully, it was not so late that cabs were scarce and one pulled up to the curb almost immediately. Bucky opened the door for Steve and slid into the warmth of the backseat after him.

Bucky was still breathless and dizzy as gave Steve’s address to the cab driver, still achingly hard inside his own pants. He couldn’t believe he’d been so brazen, pushing Steve into the same rehearsal studio that he’d been in all afternoon with Natasha and her partner, sinking to his knees. God, and Steve had tasted so fucking good, so hot and heavy inside Bucky’s mouth, his cock smooth and velvety and soft, his come warm and bitter-salt as it hit Bucky’s tongue. Christ, but he would happily do that every single day for the rest of his life if he could make Steve moan like that, feel those gorgeous fingers tighten and pull at his hair.

He suddenly felt Steve’s hand squeezing his knee and jumped half out of his skin, glancing over to find Steve looking out the front window with an innocent look on his face. They both leaned back against the seat as the cab took off.

 _“Did you have a good time?”_ Bucky asked.

Steve flashed a wicked grin.

_“The ballet was lovely. Everything afterward was even better though.”_

Bucky started to smile back but his mouth dropped open instead as Steve slid the flat of his palm against Bucky’s crotch right over his dick and cupped him through his trousers.

Steve stared straight ahead through the front window with a thoughtful expression on his face as if he was thinking about what to make for dinner instead of massaging Bucky’s dick to a full erection. Bucky desperately tried not to give himself away but he had to shut his eyes and take a deep breath as Steve’s hand slid slowly and firmly up and down his length. He stuffed a fist into his mouth and stared determinedly out of the window, praying to whoever might be listening that he would make it back to Steve’s apartment before this became a real life episode of Taxicab Confessions.

Instead of saying goodbye at the door and letting Bucky walk to the subway, Steve pulled him inside and upstairs to the apartment, giving Bucky no chance to protest as he closed the door very gently behind them. He raised one finger to his lips, indicating for Bucky to be quiet before pushing him slowly back against the front door and reaching for Bucky’s belt buckle.

Bucky was already so close from being worked up for so damn long and from Steve’s teasing in the cab over. He wanted to whimper with need but he couldn’t – they had t be quiet so that they wouldn’t wake Sarah. So Bucky kept breathing, in through the nose and out through the mouth, controlled. Bucky felt Steve’s hands, warm and soft, free him from his pants and start stroking him slowly and he had to stuff his fist in his mouth again to prevent the noise that threatened to escape his mouth.

It felt unbelievably good, Steve’s grip on him confident and firm, stroking from base to tip as that hot little mouth grazed at Bucky’s jaw. Suddenly, Bucky felt Steve’s grip shift and he looked down in shock to find Steve sliding down to his knees. He knew he should stop this, that he should pull Steve back to his feet, take those damned perfect hands off his dick and go the hell home, because Bucky was always loud when he was getting off, and Steve’s mother was in the apartment with them. He knew he should stop it, but for the life of him he was completely frozen, biting down on his hand as he watched Steve lean in and lick a bead of pre-come from the slit for Bucky’s dick. He whimpered softly, heat blazing in his belly as Steve seemed to consider the taste for a moment, and then grinned. Steve leaned back in, swirling his tongue around the tip like a lollipop and Bucky choked back a cry when those gorgeous lips wrapped around the head and sucked.

Steve sucked at him slowly and softly, concentrating on the tip and his hand worked at the shaft in long, firm strokes. Bucky squeezed his eyes shut and bit down so hard on his fist that he almost drew blood, the sensation so good and his orgasm building so fast that he was sure he’d come with a scream. He was so worked up that he wouldn’t even last another minute with that hot little mouth on him, tongue flickering against Bucky’s frenulum and the suction just right. Steve was making the tiniest, sweetest noises that just made Bucky harder still and he couldn’t help but bury his left hand in the silky soft blond hair.

He heard Steve moan around him and suddenly his large, warm hand was gone as that wet mouth slid fast down Bucky’s shaft, taking him in completely. Bucky uttered a muffled cry, eyes flying open as the ball of heat in his belly burst and flooded him unexpectedly as he came hard and fast down Steve’s throat. Over the blood pounding in his ears and the sharpness of his breath, Bucky heard Steve choke and he looked down, horrified at what he’d done.

“Oh fuck,” he gasped. “Oh fuck, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry…”

He trailed off as his eyes met the most gorgeous sight - Steve’s eyes were water-rimmed but they were huge and dark and hazy, there was come dripping down his chin and on his cheek, and god, he looked fucking debauched as hell, but was chuckling quietly, licking his lips tentatively. Bucky stopped breathing for a second as he stared, managing at last to take his hand away from his mouth so that he could reach down and wipe the come off of Steve’s chin with the pad of his thumb. Steve was lightning fast, grabbing hold of Bucky’s wrist and sucking the thumb into his mouth with the most wide-eyed, innocent look on his face. If he had not just blown his load all over his boyfriend’s face, Bucky knew that he would have come in his pants all over again just watching this.

Steve loved it – moaning softly as Bucky swept his thumb through the streaks of pearly white liquid, feeding them gently into Steve’s mouth and watching him suck it off and then open his mouth for more, his hand never leaving Bucky’s wrist. Bucky’s breathing was fast and ragged, his face hot as Steve’s eyes never left his until he was all cleaned up. Steve smiled serenely as he got to his feet, biting his lip just a little as he looked at Bucky through his eyelashes.

“Fuck…” Bucky breathed as he pushed Steve’s soft straw-blond hair from his face and ran his hands down the side of Steve’s long, delicate neck.

They kissed, soft and slow, all the fire and tension finally sated after such a build-up. They smiled into kisses, giggles were swallowed by each other’s mouths and tailed off into long sighs. Bucky ran his nose along the side of Steve’s face and delighted in the small shiver it pulled from his boyfriend. He didn’t want to leave – he just wanted to wrap himself around Steve and stay like that forever. It wasn’t possible though. He kissed Steve again, long and slow on the lips before placing soft butterfly kisses across his cheeks, his nose, his closed eyelids, his forehead, and pulled back with a sigh.

Steve’s eyes were still dark and hazy when they opened again.

“I should go home,” Bucky whispered, his mouth carefully forming the words.

Steve groaned quietly and sank forward again, wrapping both arms around Bucky’s waist as he rested his head over Bucky’s heart. God, he wanted so much to stay. Eventually, Steve let him go and stood up straight, reaching up to tenderly fix Bucky’s crooked tie as Bucky fastened his pants back up.

 _“Make sure you text me when you get home,”_ Steve signed.

Bucky flashed him a brilliant grin, leaning in to steal one more kiss.

 _“I will,”_ he promised.

He was halfway down the street, back out in the chilly night air before it hit him properly and Bucky had to stop and lean against a wall for a moment as he laughed and covered his face with his hands. That had happened. It had actually, really happened and it had been amazing. Bucky just didn’t know how he was going to make it until the next time he could see Steve, but he knew he’d never be able to stop thinking about how good that mouth felt on his body.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies to those who already saw and read and commented - something fucked up and I had to re-post the chapter.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter in it’s entirety came to almost 12,000 words, so we’ve decided to split it. Mellyblue007 is 95% responsible for the Thanksgiving scenes, so be sure to give her lots of love.

The house Bucky grew up in from age fourteen was enormous and well known in the neighbourhood. Helen Jamieson, Bucky and Rebecca’s foster parent, took care of ten kids at a time in long-term foster care, and she was possibly the best human being Bucky had ever known. Helen had inherited the house and a whole load of money from a rich elderly relative, and she’d left a job in investment banking to open her home to local kids, offering food, help with homework, hugs, support, and places to sleep when home lives got a little tough. Even when she started taking on foster kids, Helen still did all of that stuff and the house was packed to the rafters during holidays, because everybody came back to her and they were all welcome. As far as Helen was concerned, once you were one of her kids, you were there for life.

Natasha didn’t like kids, but she did like Whitney, a ten year old with Spina Bifida that Helen had adopted as a baby when Bucky still lived there, and Whitney adored ballerinas. Natasha was Whit’s idol and the kid was smart as a whip, so whenever he went back to the house he took Nat with him when he could.

“For a woman who hates kids, she sure is good with Whit,” Helen said as she handed Bucky a cup of coffee and slid into the chair opposite him at the kitchen counter.

Bucky grinned.

“Nat has a heart of gold really. She’s just careful who she shows it to.”

Helen smirked at him and folded her hands on top of the counter, leaning forward.

“Yeah well,” she replied. “You’re not here to talk about Natasha. It’s Thanksgiving week – and you’re here to tell me that you’re not coming this year.”

Bucky’s mouth dropped open.

“Now how in the hell did you know that?”

“Because you kids usually just turn up on my doorstep, turn everything upside down and demand food. You don’t show up a couple of days beforehand like this.”

He looked down at his coffee guiltily and Helen laughed at him, reaching across the bench to squeeze his hand gently.

“I don’t begrudge you getting on with your life, honey,” she told him. “As long as you’re not sitting on your own, getting drunk. Are you going to Natasha’s parents?”

“Uh…no,” Bucky replied, looking back up at and taking a deep breath. “Actually, I have a new boyfriend and I’m spending the day with him.”

Helen’s face lit up like the Fourth of July.

“Really? Oh honey, that’s great.”

Bucky bit his lip as a smile spread over his face and he tucked an errand strand of hair behind his ear. Over the next half hour, he told her all about Steve – from seeing him the bookstore, discovering he was Deaf, getting Clint to teach him ASL, to their dates at the Met, and the movies and the ballet. Bucky explained about Sarah Rogers and that she was very sick with lung cancer – he was pretty sure by what Sarah had said to him on Saturday night that this holiday season could be her last. Oh, but Bucky could talk about Steve for hours – about the way his face lit up around art and how his hands moved when he sketched, of the way those sky-blue eyes keenly observed everything around him, and how damn confident he was in himself. Helen listened to it all with a smile on her face until finally she asked if Bucky had a picture she could see. Taking out his phone, he flipped through a few before picking out one of his favourites – a picture he’d taken on them in the bookstore the other week, Steve leaning back against Bucky’s chest, face tilted slightly towards Bucky’s whilst still beaming at the camera.

“He’s a cutie pie,” Helen said as she handed the phone back with a smile.

“Yeah,” he agreed.

“Well, we’ll miss you sweetie, but you have a great time.”

Bucky grinned at her and nodded. It was going to be strange not spending a holiday in that huge house. As intimidating and overwhelming as it had been at first, Bucky and his sister had swiftly become used to the house being flooded with people at certain times of the year and now it was just the norm. It was going to be pretty quiet this year with just Steve and Sarah Rogers.

Twenty minutes later and he was walking Natasha back to the metro stop, his friend’s arm linked through his.

“So, was that true?” she asked casually. “You’re really spending Thanksgiving with Steve and his mom?”

“Yeah,” Bucky replied. “I mean, he asked me on Sunday and it’s not like I’ll really be missed at Helen’s. She’s probably grateful for one less mouth to feed.”

Natasha nodded slowly.

“So you’re going over in the morning?”

“Actually,” said Bucky, rubbing the back of his neck bashfully, “I’ve been invited to stay over the night before so I don’t get caught up in all the parade traffic.”

Natasha stopped dead, dragging Bucky to a standstill and spinning him around by the arm so that he was facing her.

“You’re staying the night?”

“Yeah…”

Natasha held out her hand and Bucky’s brow furrowed in confusion.

“Gimme your wallet,” she said.

“What? Why?”

“I’m not gonna steal your money, Barnes. Just gimme your wallet.”

Bucky wasn’t entirely sure if he believed that, but Natasha was his best friend and if he couldn’t trust her, then he couldn’t trust anybody. Hesitantly he pulled his walled from his pocket and deposited it into her outstretched hand, watching as she smirked and walked over to a low wall. She balanced her bag on it while she searched through it and, after a minute, pulled out a handful of condoms and packets of lube. Right there on the street.

“Nat!” Bucky hissed, looking around wildly.

“Oh, relax,” replied Nat, rolling her eyes as she tucked a couple of each into Bucky’s wallet and handed it back. “It’s just in case of emergency.”

Bucky stared at her for a second before taking his wallet back and stuffing it back in his pocket. It wasn’t as though he hadn’t thought about sex with Steve, because actually, he kind of thought about it a lot. Much more than he probably should, if he was going to be honest, ever since Steve had sent him that text after HYDRA. They had been building up to it pretty steadily and Bucky was definitely sure that he wanted to, but it didn’t necessarily have to be now.

“You know, just because I’m staying over does not automatically mean that…”

“Yeah yeah,” Nat interrupted, linking her arm with his again. “Like I said – just in case.”

Bucky sighed and shook his head, but he was smiling. He knew this was Natasha’s way of redeeming herself over what happened at Halloween. Besides, he guessed that it could never hurt to be prepared. Just in case.

~

Bucky was five minutes late to the apartment and Steve was filled with anticipation about having his boyfriend to himself all night long. He alternated between walking to the front door and then back to the living room to check the time on the clock.

_“Steve, you have to stop pacing back and forth before you wear a hole in the floor!" Sarah stared at her son in amazement. "You are making me nervous and he’s not even my boyfriend.”_

Steve stopped parading back and forth between the foyer and the living room and tried to reply but his fingers didn’t seem to want to work correctly. He finally threw his hands in the air in helpless agitation. Sarah’s expression softened.

_“Sweetheart, I know you just want everything to be perfect but that boy is already head over heels for you.”_

Steve felt his heart give a hopeful jolt in his chest.

 _“How can you be so sure?”_ he asked.

Sarah Rogers smiled at him and leaned back in her chair.

_“Because I saw the way his expression changed when you walked into the room - it was like the sun came out from behind the clouds. And also because I know you better than you know yourself and I saw the exact same look on your face when you saw him.”_

Steve took a deep breath and smoothed down the front of his plain white t-shirt and then almost jumped out of his skin when the doorbell rang, setting off the small alert pager that he kept on his waistband when in the apartment. Leaving his amused mother in his wake, Steve ran down the hall and almost slipped and fell as he skidded around the corner in his socks, only saving himself by grabbing the doorknob. He quickly unlatched the lock, ran his fingers through his hair, and pulled the door open.

He couldn’t help the goofy grin that spread across his face when he saw Bucky. Oh god, if Steve lived to be a thousand years old, he didn’t think he would ever see anything or anyone more beautiful than the man standing in front of him. Sometimes it was hard to decide if he wanted to stare at him all day or climb him like a tree. Tonight Bucky was wearing his black leather jacket and his hair was back in the usual ponytail but he had water droplets glistening like diamonds in the dark strands where snowflakes had melted in the heat of the apartment building. The tip of his nose and his cheeks were pink from the cold and he was grinning as he quickly used his teeth to tug his gloves off.

 _“Are you going to stare at me or are you going to invite me in?”_ Bucky signed.

Steve didn’t even have to think about it as he grabbed Bucky’s warm red scarf, winding his fingers into the soft yarn, and pulled him into the foyer for a kiss. Bucky’s lips were cold as they moved gently against Steve’s and for a minute they just stood pressed against each other. Steve’s eyelids fluttered closed as Bucky’s strong metal hand shifted to the curve of his waist. He was pretty sure that he would have been happy standing in the foyer all night until Bucky suddenly slipped two of his fingers under the hem of Steve’s shirt and pressed the freezing metal against his warm skin. He yelped in surprise and Bucky laughed and gave him a giant smacking kiss on the cheek before releasing him and grabbing the bags he had left in the hallway.

Sarah was carefully standing up when Steve walked back into the living room and Steve ran to grab her walker. She was still able to get from room to room easily but she was weak enough that she needed the walker for balance and support. The visible sign of her declining health made Steve feel uneasy but she stood unassisted to greet Bucky and pulled him into a hug. Steve felt a rush of tenderness when he saw how gently his boyfriend hugged Sarah back.

_“Bucky, I am so glad that you were able to spend Thanksgiving with us. Are you sure your foster mother won’t be upset that we are stealing you for the holidays?”_

As usual when around another hearing person, his mother spoke as she signed.

Bucky gave Sarah’s hand a light squeeze and smiled.

 _“Aunt Helen was thrilled when Steve asked me to stay for Thanksgiving that she gave me her recipe for cornbread dressing and then made me promise to bring Steve over to meet her and my all of my foster-brothers and sisters soon. Thank you again for inviting me.”_ His eyes found Steve’s. _“It means a lot to me.”_

Steve watched Bucky’s hands as he signed – he was getting really good, even though it was still slow and careful and some of signs weren’t quite right. Bucky did try his damned hardest though and Steve could always figure out what he was trying to say.

Sarah grasped the walker and turned it toward her room.

_“It was my pleasure, sweetheart. I’m going to watch TV in my room for a little while. You boys have a good night and I’ll see you in the morning.”_

She stopped in her doorway with an innocent look on her face.

_“Don’t worry. I’ll make a lot of noise if I need to get up for a drink of water or something.”_

She winked at them as she closed her door and Steve felt his face heat up as he dropped his hand over his eyes. He felt Bucky press against his back and when strong arms closed around him, he leaned back into the embrace and sighed happily.

~

’It’s A Wonderful Life’ was on the television and George Bailey was currently offering Mary the moon. Even though Steve felt like Christmas season started much too early every year, he couldn’t resist watching the old classic holiday movies. The room was dark and warm, lit only by the television set and the fire from the fireplace, and he and Bucky were snuggled up on the sofa under his great-grandmother’s quilt. Steve yawned and burrowed his cheek against Bucky’s tank top and he didn’t think that he had ever been quite so comfortable as he was when Bucky was holding him and gently stroking his back.

So much of their time together seemed to be rushed in one way or another — either by school obligations, work, or doctor’s appointments— that it almost felt like a gift for Steve to be able to lay with his boyfriend and memorize the feel of Bucky’s heartbeat against his cheek and the cadence of slow deep breaths that caused Steve to gently rise and fall with the motion of Bucky’s chest. It felt right — like this was where he belonged.

A flash of light caught Steve’s eye and he reached up to trace the reflections that the flames cast onto Bucky’s arm, wishing there was some way that he could capture them with pencil and paper. He ran his fingertips over the dancing red reflections on the warm metal and without thinking he pressed a kiss to Bucky’s bicep. For a second Steve was afraid that he had made a mistake when Bucky shifted.

He knew that he wasn’t always comfortable displaying his prosthetic, even though Steve made it clear that he thought every part of Bucky was beautiful, but Bucky merely lifted his hand and stroked the knuckles of his warm metal fingers over Steve’s jaw and down the front of his throat to dip briefly under the collar of Steve’s t-shirt to his collarbone. Privately, Steve thought that he couldn’t get enough of that metal hand on his neck and he rolled over on his stomach to raise his head and look at the man underneath him.

If Bucky Barnes was gorgeous at any other time, he was positively breath-taking by firelight. His dark hair looked almost black and Steve could see the flickering flames mirrored in his eyes. His lips were a little swollen and glistened where he had absently bitten and licked them as he concentrated on the movie and Steve thought that Bucky could have posed for Rembrandt’s greatest masterpiece if he had been alive then. Bucky cupped Steve’s cheeks briefly before grinning at him.

 _“What is it, S-T-E-V-I-E? You want the moon? Just say the word and I will give you the moon.”_ Bucky signed.

Steve grinned back, recognizing George’s offer to Mary. He pretended to think about it for a minute and shook his head, blonde hair falling in his face. 

_“No, the moon is fine where it is. You are all I want.”_

The laughter faded from Bucky’s face and was replaced by something soft that Steve couldn’t quite define. Bucky reached down and gently took Steve’s hand from where it was resting on his ribs and placed it over his heart. He held it in place for a moment before looking Steve in the eyes.

_“I’m already yours.”_

Steve’s breath caught in his throat and he had to blink a few times to clear the tears that suddenly clouded his vision. Grabbing a handful of Bucky’s thin tank top, he pulled him to a sitting position, backing up so that he was kneeling between his legs and he pulled Bucky in for a kiss.

It felt a little bit strange kneeling above Bucky and having to tilt his head down for their lips to meet. He was used to Bucky having the height-advantage but it didn’t really matter either way. All that mattered was the movement of their lips and tongues, gliding slowly together, opening for darting licks, and the occasional slick nip of teeth. Bucky’ s arms slid around him, pulling him even closer as he licked into Steve’s mouth and Steve couldn’t help the moan that vibrated in his throat. He broke the kiss and pressed his forehead against Bucky’s and then leaned back.

_“We should probably go to sleep if we are going to wake up and cook Thanksgiving dinner.”_

Bucky leaned back and snuggled into the cushions.

_“So what are the sleeping arrangements going to be?”_

Steve thought of his mom’s cheeky wink earlier and grinned.

_“Well, you are going to sleep on the sofa and I am going to sleep right here on you.”_

Bucky’s face lit up.

 _“Then come here, P-U-N-K,”_ he signed before pulling Steve down on top of him and covering them both with the quilt.

Steve switched off the TV and they lay quietly, hands gently caressing each other, while they watched the glowing embers fade. The last thing Steve felt before falling asleep was Bucky pressing a kiss into his hair.

~

When Steve woke up the next morning, he felt a long line of heat against his back and an unfamiliar weight over his side. He looked down to see Bucky’s hand resting against his stomach and he stretched and then snuggled back into the curve of Bucky’s body. The arm around him tightened and he rolled over as Bucky reluctantly opened an eye. Steve brushed his hair out of his face. 

_“Good morning, beautiful.”_

Bucky wrinkled his nose at him and Steve laughed softly.

_“I’m going to get Mom’s medicine and tea ready for her and then I’ll put on coffee and we can watch the parade.”_

Bucky nodded and buried his face into the pillow and Steve slid out from under the quilt, tucking it securely around Bucky to keep him warm. He ran to the bathroom to brush his teeth and was puttering around in the kitchen when he saw Bucky stumbling to the bathroom, half-asleep with his hair sticking up all over his head. Bucky obviously wasn’t a morning person like Steve was but damn if he wasn’t adorable anyway.

Steve had just taken his first sip of coffee when Bucky finally emerged from the bathroom and Steve sat the mug down and just stared. He was still wearing his black tank top from the night before and his dark gray sweatpants hung loose on his hips. He ran his fingers through his unbound hair and padded over with bare feet to grab Steve’s mug of coffee and take a grateful sip. Holding the mug, he sleepily curled around Steve as if he were the smaller man and Steve wrapped his arms protectively around Bucky and held him close. He nuzzled along Bucky’s stubbed jaw and captured his lips in a lingering kiss. They both tasted like toothpaste and coffee and Steve wished that this could be part of his morning routine every day.

They just stood pressed together, kissing in the kitchen and sharing a single mug of coffee while the sun slowly crept in through the tall windows, making the lacy frost on the glass sparkle. It seems as though they stood there for an hour before Bucky glanced up and smiled and Steve turned around to see his mother standing there. Mornings were often rough lately before her first dose of Zofran but she looked really good today. She looked happy. Steve hurried over to help her to her chair and cover her with her blanket and Bucky brought her medicine and tea. She pulled them both in for a peck on the cheek.

 _“Good morning boys!”_ she signed, lips moving as she spoke aloud. _“Happy Thanksgiving! Are you both still feeling up to cooking our feast today? It’s not too late to back out and order Chinese instead.”_

Steve put his hands on his hips in mock outrage and signed

_“I don’t think she has faith in our ability to cook a turkey, Bucky.”_

Bucky arched an eyebrow.

_“Do you know how to cook a turkey?”_

Steve thought about it for a minute.

_“I’ll keep the take-out menu handy, just in case.”_

Cooking turned out to be a great adventure. The Internet was a fantastic resource for turkey-cooking directions, even though it took the two of them working together to prepare the bird. It would have taken far less time but Bucky was absolutely disgusted with the thought of reaching inside the turkey and adamantly refused to lay a hand on it.

“Hell no, Steve!” he said aloud before signing the rest.

_“There is nothing you can say that will make me stick my hand up a turkey’s butt. Your hands are smaller than mine, so you do it.”_

Steve wasn’t particularly bothered by stuffing the bird but he absolutely loved teasing Bucky by cornering him in the kitchen and wiggling his stuffing-covered finger at him. 

Making pies was oft-interrupted by spontaneous kisses and petting. Steve took some toast and fruit out to Sarah and was walking back to the kitchen when he saw her make an abrupt movement out of the corner of his eye. He quickly ran back to her only to realize that she was laughing hysterically. He shook his head at her in confusion and she gently turned him around and pointed out the flour hand-prints on his butt. When he walked back into the kitchen, Bucky was laughing and Steve couldn’t help but grin at his boyfriend and swat him playfully on the ass.

_“You did that on purpose!”_

_“Yes. Have to make sure everyone knows that you’re mine!”_

_“J-E-R-K.”_

_“P-U-N-K.”_

Bucky winked at him and snapped a dish towel in his direction and then turned back around to glance at the football score on the tv before concentrating on the hand-written recipe card in front of him once more.

Steve wrapped up the pie so it could chill until they were ready for it and watched Bucky out of the corner of his eye. He was leaning against the counter, swaying his hips to the beat of whatever music the Texas A&M band was playing, chin propped in his hand and his lips puckered as he rechecked the measurement of flour he had just poured into a bowl. He reached up and ran his hand through his hair, leaving a faint white streak of residue behind. Steve thought affectionately that Bucky was a hot mess in the kitchen but he would gladly spend the rest of his life cleaning up after him if he got the opportunity. He never thought it was possible to fall in love with someone so completely…

Steve froze with his hand on the refrigerator door. He loved Bucky. He, Steven Grant Rogers, was in love with James Buchanan Barnes, hopelessly, endlessly, and completely.

He looked around the room and was almost surprised that there were no fireworks that accompanied his realization. Bucky had somehow covered his t-shirt in flour and appeared to be muttering under his breath and Steve was pretty sure that Sarah was still working on sewing the quilt she was making from some of Steve’s old baby clothes. In an instant, he felt like his entire world had changed and no one seemed to notice.

He glanced at the TV just in time to see the Aggies score yet another touchdown against the LSU Tigers and the raucous crowd at Kyle Field was going wild. Steve guessed that was something at least. He suddenly came to a decision and touched Bucky on the arm. Bucky turned and Steve smiled when he saw Bucky’s lips form his name. His heart was beating so fast.

 _“What you said about me being yours…you know that’s true, don’t you?"_

He reached up and brushed a little bit of flour out of Bucky’s hair.

Bucky’s face softened as he smiled back, reaching out to gently touch Steve’s cheek with the cool metal of his left hand. Steve’s eyes flickered closed for a second but snapped open when the cool touch disappeared.

 _“I’m yours too,”_ Bucky signed.

Steve may have been shaking slightly as he stepped a little closer, looking Bucky directly in the eye as he signed the rest of what he needed to say.

_“I want you, Bucky.”_

Bucky’s eyes widened in surprise.

_“You want…”_

His fingers seemed unable to cooperate, but Steve had never felt surer of anything in his life.

_“I want you. All of you. I’m yours.”_

Bucky looked as dazed as Steve felt but his pupils were dilated with want as Steve grasped Bucky’s pockets and pulled him close enough that their lips were almost touching, feeling Bucky’s breath against his skin as he whispered:

"I want you…" 

Bucky almost jumped out of his skin just then as the oven timer went off, signalling that the turkey was ready, and startling Steve as well. They leaped apart and then laughed a little bit. The moment was over for now but the look Bucky threw at Steve as he took the golden turkey out of the oven was a promise that they would finish what they started as soon as the opportunity presented itself. Steve intended on making sure it happened sooner rather than later.

The dinner table was covered in a beautiful white linen and lace tablecloth that Steve’s great-grandmother had brought to America with her from Ireland when she was a brand new bride, in love with a man who was determined to cross the ocean in search of a better life for his family. Two antique silver candlesticks held long white tapered candles and Bucky had set the table with the fine white china.

As Steve looked at the spread of food, he was proud and amazed that he and Bucky had managed to prepare such a beautiful meal, especially with the amount of playing and making-out there had been. There were times that they were so lost in each other that the kitchen could have burned down around them and they might not have noticed. It was always like that with Bucky though.

Since the very first time they locked eyes in the bookstore three months ago, Steve felt like a part of him was missing when Bucky wasn’t there. Steve felt a swell of love as he watched Bucky offer his strong arm to Sarah and gently escorted her to the head of the table and pulled out her chair for her to sit. Steve and Bucky sat across from each other on either side of her. She looked expectantly at Steve and he rolled his eyes fondly and grinned at Bucky.

_"Every year, we have to name two things that we are thankful for before she lets me eat. It’s a Rogers family tradition, so think fast if you are hungry. I guess I will start."_

He reached down and patted Sarah’s thin hand.

_“I’m thankful for you. I’m thankful for everything you did for me. I’m thankful that you fought for me and worked so hard to teach me and raise me. I wouldn’t have had the chances I have had if you weren’t so strong.”_

He looked across at Bucky and felt butterflies in his stomach and had to glance down for a moment before meeting his eyes.

_“I’m thankful for chance meetings that became something more because you were determined enough to learn to sign and say hello to a skinny little guy in glasses. I’m thankful for every single moment since then.”_

Bucky looked like he wanted to reach across the table and take Steve’s hands in his own but he took a few deep breaths and then gave a small smile, signing haltingly but well.

_“I’m grateful for the families I have had the privilege of being a part of. I’m grateful for my mom, dad, and Rebecca, and for Helen and all of my foster-brother and sisters.”_

He met Steve’s eyes and Steve could see his hands tremble. Bucky’s lips moved slowly as he spoke more words than he managed to sign.

"I’m not as good with words as you are. Sometimes it is hard for me to say things the way I want to and it all comes out wrong. I want you to know how grateful I am though. I’m grateful for your patience and stubbornness and your courage. I’m grateful that you gave me a chance and didn’t give up on me. I’m grateful that my sister wanted a book for her birthday and I happened to walk into that bookstore in September and spot you sitting there. I’m grateful to be here with you now." 

Steve wanted to tell him. If it had been just the two of them sitting there, this is the moment he would have chosen to take Bucky’s face in his hands and say “I love you” out loud but the time wasn’t right. As much as Steve was sure his mother would get a kick out of it, he wanted to tell Bucky privately when they were alone together. He wasn’t in a rush. When the time was right, he would know it. 

Sarah leaned forward, and they both looked at her to see tears in her eyes. She shook her head and laughed.

_“I have so much that I am grateful for but I am most grateful that I had the chance to see this.”_

Steve raised an eyebrow.

_“What? The food?”_

Sarah smacked him gently on the arm.

_“No, not the food! The two of you being sappy and adorable. Now let’s eat before we starve.”_

The Chinese take-out would have to wait for another day because the food was actually excellent. Bucky and Sarah were discussing his current music composition and his impending graduation and Steve was getting antsy to have some time alone with his boyfriend. He waited until Bucky took a huge bite of turkey and then he slid his bare foot under the table until it touched Bucky’s and he lifted his toes under the hem of his jeans to rub against his ankle. Bucky narrowed his eyes and Steve smiled back innocently and hooked his foot around the back of Bucky’s leg caressing his calf up and down and then moved his foot back to the floor.

He grinned to himself as Bucky, now slightly flushed, set down his fork and rubbed the back of his neck nervously as he chewed his particularly large mouthful, and Steve took it upon himself to ask his mother if she needed any help in getting to her room after they had finished dinner. She looked exhausted after all the interaction and the sizable plate of food she’d managed to eat, and Steve knew she’s probably fall asleep for a good couple of hours, which would give him and Bucky time to be alone together.

When everyone had finished, Steve got up from the table and helped his mother to her room and into bed. When he came out and shut the door, Bucky was standing in the middle of the room with his hands in his pockets, looking at him softly through a curtain of light brown hair.

Steve’s heart pounded as he walked to him, standing on tiptoe to brush his lips against Bucky’s. Although he felt like his whole body was trembling, his hands were perfectly steady.

_“Come see my art studio. It’s more private upstairs than down here.”_

He held out his hand and Bucky took it.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We were going to let you sweat it out, but we decided to be nice and give you all of it today. But I swear, the first person who jumps in the comments and says that they want more now is gonna get a slap, because it's taken blood, sweat and tears to bring you this!

Steve’s studio was the converted part of the building’s loft – not much to look at and evidently not meant to be a living space, but it was bright with the sun pouring in from the skylights and it was spacious and airy. There was a stack of canvases in the corner covered with a sheet, and easel set up beside a table that was covered in paper and charcoal and chalk, and on the floor there was a mattress covered with a sheet and a thick blanket, but no pillows. Steve obviously spent a lot of time up here but not to sleep.

Bucky lightly brushed the fingertips of his left hand along the top of the table as Steve rolled the door closed behind them. This was the first time he’d been given access to this part of his boyfriend’s life and he felt deeply honoured to be standing in this private space. He’d never seen Steve’s art work before – the other week in the bookstore, Bucky had asked if he could glimpse Steve’s sketch but Steve hadn’t been ready. Even now, all the art was covered up and hidden from view, but it was enough just to be there in the place where Steve obviously felt safe and comfortable.

Everything they had done, everything they had communicated in the last few weeks had all been leading up to this moment, and spending the night curled into Steve’s back, waking up to him, cooking dinner in the kitchen, had made him realise just how far this had gone in such a short space of time. That moment, in the kitchen, when Steve had told Bucky that he wanted him - God knew how much he wanted this, but Steve was special and Bucky was still so scared of messing it all up. He had been in love with Steve from the moment he’d seen those beautiful hands and the feeling had been getting stronger every day since, with everything new he learned about Steve, with every new aspect of his personality that Bucky saw. All he wanted to do was make Steve happy.

Slowly, he turned around and leaned back against the table, placing both hands on the edge for balance. Steve smiled shyly at him from the other side of the room, looking so damned adorable in that oversized dark red sweater, his straw-blond hair falling into his eyes, hands in the pockets of his jeans. Bucky was pretty sure he’d never wanted anyone as much in his life, desperate to touch, to kiss, to breathe him in, yet so scared to make the first move. The tension in the air was so thick it could have been cut with a knife.

As always, Steve took the first step towards him, and Bucky was up off the desk in a shot, taking up the floor in large strides to sweep that little guy up into a kiss, hands cradling either side of his face as those artist’s hands bunched up the front of his t-shirt. The kiss was soft, almost chaste at first, close-mouthed, Steve standing on his tiptoes as he leaned up into it. Slowly their lips parted and the kiss deepened, Steve’s tongue licking deliberately into Bucky’s mouth as his hands released the fabric of the t-shirt and skinny arms wound around his neck.

A groan bubbled up from Steve’s chest as Bucky’s hands travelled down Steve’s body to his waist, slipping up under his oversized red sweater and black button-down combo, thumbs gently stroking at the smooth skin he found under there and along the sharp hip bones sticking out from the top of his jeans waistband. It was Steve who broke the kiss, stepping back with a coy smile and raising his arms above his head. Bucky huffed out a soft laugh as he realised what his boyfriend wanted, reaching out to grasp the hem of Steve’s sweater, pulling it up and over his head. He dropped it to the floor and looked back at Steve who was grinning, his blond hair sticking up slightly from the static, and Bucky couldn’t help but grin too as he reached out to smooth the strands back down.

It was so strange, undressing another person, slowly peeling off layers to reveal skin. Bucky’s t-shirt got caught on his hair tie and it clattered to the floor, dragging his ponytail out as Steve tugged the garment over Bucky’s head. His hair fell loose around his face and it made them both laugh. Bucky fumbled awkwardly with the buttons of Steve’s shirt, his prosthetic fingers not quite as dexterous as his real ones and Steve had to help him out, giggling as he did so and pressing tiny kisses to Bucky’s chin until they were all loose. As the shirt snagged on Steve’s elbow Bucky realised just how damn terrible he was at this, how ridiculously clumsy and uncoordinated, but Steve was looking at him like Bucky was the best thing on earth and suddenly it didn’t matter anymore. When the shirt finally fell to the floor, Bucky’s breath was completely taken away.

He’d only ever seen Steve’s body like this once before, on Halloween and in the dim orange light of his bedroom lamp, but now he saw it in full daylight, saw the delicate collarbones and the long graceful neck, those sharp ribs and the thin scar running down Steve’s chest from his heart operation as a kid, and Bucky had never seen anyone more beautiful in his whole life.

“You are fucking gorgeous,” he whispered as his eyes travelled slowly down over Steve’s body.

He dipped his head and pressed a kiss to the hollow of Steve’s throat, hearing him sigh and feeling the light shiver that ran through that tiny body. He pulled Steve in by the belt-loops as he let his tongue lap over the pulse point on Steve’s neck and sucked at it gently, smiling as he was rewarded with a small, sweet whimper. Steve’s fingernails dug into his skin just above his hips and he loved that, the sharpness of them as Steve tried to pull him closer, his head lolling back to give Bucky better access to his neck and throat.

Steve’s hands went to Bucky’s belt buckle and he heard the metallic clink as it unfastened. He was already half hard when Steve started palming him through the rough denim and he gasped, forehead hitting Steve’s bony shoulder. They had just begun to get into a good rhythm, but it all went to hell as they tried to get each other out of their pants, fingers scrabbling with buckles and buttons and zippers in their haste to just be rid of them. Bucky’s jeans were halfway around his thighs and Steve’s were at his knees when they overbalanced and Steve toppled backwards onto the bed, fingers still gripping Bucky’s waistband and bringing the heavier guy crashing down on top of him.

“FUCK!” Bucky cursed as he threw out his arms to stop himself from crushing Steve as he fell, locking his elbows as his hands hit the mattress.

Bucky stared at Steve and Steve stared right back, eyes wide with shock until a sudden snort came out of his nose and they both started to laugh, Steve’s head falling back on the mattress as Bucky buried his laughter into Steve’s neck. This was absolutely not how undressing somebody was meant to go, but somehow it was perfect.

“Oh god, I’m a total idiot,” he murmured into Steve’s soft hair, just by his ear as his boyfriend’s shoulders continued to shake with laughter.

Eventually, Bucky managed to shimmy out of his pants and sit back in order to pull Steve’s off too, noticing how eager his boyfriend was to help him by lifting his legs up and kicking them away with his feet before wrapping both arms around Bucky’s neck again, pulling him back down on top of him.

Huge blue eyes seemed to stare right into his soul as Bucky balanced on his elbows and tenderly pushed Steve’s hair back from his face, his heart thumping hard against his ribcage. He couldn’t believe he was here, Steve reading and willing under him, looking at him with such trust that Bucky was sure his heart would be breaking if he didn’t want this so damn much. He leaned down, lightly brushing the tip of Steve’s nose with his own.

“You are the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen,” he murmured as he stroked Steve’s soft blond hair back gently.

Steve couldn’t hear him, but he understood the sentiment if nothing else, that sweet pink flush cheeping across his cheeks and nose, highlighting every tiny freckle on his skin. Steve’s hands left the back of Bucky’s neck and slid down, pressing firmly against his chest, not firm enough to be a push, but enough of an indication for Bucky to move back a little. He pushed himself up onto his hands and watched as Steve started to sign something.

_“There’s something I should tell you.”_

Bucky’s brow furrowed slightly.

“What is it?” he asked aloud, his hands currently in use propping him up.

Steve bit his lower lip for a split second before he took a deep breath. Nothing Bucky could think of prepared him for what Steve signed next.

_“I’ve never done this before.”_

Bucky’s heart beat faster as his brain tried to come up with every possible meaning for that as he spoke, slowly and very clearly:

“Which part?”

_“Any of it.”_

The breath was entirely knocked from his lungs in one swift exhale as Bucky sat back and up, staring open mouthed at his boyfriend. Steve’s teeth dragged across his bottom lip as he propped himself up on his elbows, watching as Bucky attempted to process what Steve was telling him. It took Bucky a moment to remember how to sign what little he knew.

_“What about what I did after the ballet last Saturday?”_

Steve’s lip turned white as his teeth dug in and he shook his head slowly. Bucky swallowed hard, hit with the realisation that he’d given Steve his first blow job, rushed and messy with his back up against the mirrors of a dance studio. Not the most romantic of situations at all. It wasn’t the only thing that had happened in the most unromantic of circumstances that night either.

_“What about after? In the apartment?”_

Steve shook his head again and if Bucky hadn’t been already kneeling, he knew his legs would have buckled. Suddenly he realised that the choking sound Steve had made right before Bucky blew his load hadn’t been anything Bucky did, but the fact that the kid hadn’t realised what would happen when a cock suddenly hit the back of his throat. Bucky ran a shaking hand through his hair before asking about the rest.

“Halloween?”

A smile was starting to spread over Steve’s face again and he shook his head once more.

“Holy Cow…” breathed Bucky, tugging at his hair to ground him as Steve huffed out a laugh. Bucky’s heart was now hammering against his ribcage.

Slowly, he forced his hands to form more signs.

_“Please tell me you had kissed somebody before.”_

Steve laughed aloud, his head dipping back between his shoulder blades. Bucky felt his cheeks colour and grow warm.

 _“Yes,”_ Steve signed. _“But nothing else until I met you.”_

_“Why didn’t you tell me?”_

Steve smiled gently at him and sat up straight.

_“It wasn’t important until now.”_

Bucky stared at him. Steve was a virgin – this gorgeous, confident, forward little guy who had made every first move since Bucky had first asked him out, the same guy who had sent Bucky a text after they’d spent hours kissing and grinding on a nightclub dance floor to tell him that he wanted Bucky’s hands and mouth all over his body. Never in his life had Bucky expected to be the first person to do this with Steve. Slowly, he took a deep breath.

“We don’t have to do this now,” he signed. “We can wait…”

Steve was up like a shot, onto his knees and reaching forward to size Bucky’s wrists and stop him from signing any more. Those sky-blue eyes searched for his as warmth thumbs rubbed gently over the backs of Bucky’s hands.

“No,” Steve said firmly, his deep voice surprising Bucky as it always did.

He looked seriously at Bucky as he let go and brought his hands to Bucky’s face.

“I want this. With you.”

Bucky couldn’t believe it, that Steve wanted him – Bucky Barnes who was broken and clumsy and went completely to pieces around this sweet, perfect, funny, confident little guy. The thought of Steve wanting Bucky to be the first person to share this with made him dizzy, scared, and yet unbelievably turned on.

“Oh God, c’mere…” he murmured, sliding both of his hands into Steve’s soft blond hair and kissing him for all he was worth.

Steve melted against him, moaning softly into Bucky’s mouth and sliding his hands down Bucky’s chest and around his waist, pulling their bodies closer together. Slowly, Bucky lowered them both back down onto the mattress and nestled into the space Steve made for him between his legs. He placed a line of soft kisses across Steve’s cheek and over his jaw, behind his ear and down the side of his neck. He fit so perfectly in Bucky’s arms it felt like they had been made for each other.

“I’m yours,” Bucky heard himself say, pressing the words gently into Steve’s skin. “I’m yours completely. Anything you want from me, you can have.”

Steve sighed happily under his attention, hands sliding up and into his own hair as his body arched up into Bucky’s touch. He took it slow, leaving a trail of wet kisses across Steve’s bony chest, his tongue tracing the line of the thin scar over Steve’s sternum. Bucky ran his hands down Steve’s sides with just a little pressure as his mouth moved over to the right nipple, taking the small nub between his teeth and sucking it into his mouth. Steve gasped and cried out softly, lifting away from the mattress beneath him as Bucky continued to nip and suck and lick and kiss, teasing Steve’s nipple until it was sensitive and erect before moving over and doing the same with the left.

Bucky watched him through his eyelashes, mesmerized by the way Steve thrashed his head back and forth, the way he alternated between pulling at his own hair and balling his fists in the sheet by his head, how he bit down on his lip in attempt to prevent his moans from escaping. Steve’s chest rose and fell fast as Bucky’s mouth grazed the line of the sharp ribcage and kissed down his soft, concave stomach. He was completely gorgeous like this.

Bucky stopped when his mouth reached the waistband of Steve’s underwear and he looked up into that beautiful, flushed fact to find Steve looking back at him, eyes dark and breathing fast. He licked his lips slowly as Steve smiled beautifully at him, hands letting go of the sheets by his head in order to sign:

_“Are you going to stare at me, or are you going to fuck me?”_

Bucky’s mouth dropped open and a surprised, singular laugh escaped it. The cheeky little brat was lying there, pretty much naked and using Bucky’s similar words from the night before against him. Bucky didn’t think he could adore him more.

“Punk,” he muttered fondly.

Very slowly, his eyes still locked with Steve’s, Bucky lowered his head again, tilted to the side, and ran his open mouth across the solid flesh making an evident bulge in the front of Steve’s boxer briefs, watching as his eyelids dropped and his head fell back with a long, loud exhale. Bucky spent a good few minutes just running his mouth along the confined, hard length, feeling his own breath billow back hot on his face as his saliva soaked through the fabric. He loved feeling Steve writhe beneath him, hearing his sighs and gasps and soft whimpers echo off the bare brick walls around him.

Finally he slipped his fingertips into the waistband and pulled Steve’s underwear down, his mouth watering as he released Steve’s cock. He’d never managed to get a good look at it in the gloom of the ballet rehearsal studio, but now he bit his lip to suppress a groan as his eyes took in the sight – long, not really thick, but straight and uncut. He gripped the shaft lightly and pressed his lips against the silky smooth head, tasting the single drop of pre-come that sat there as Steve gasped sharply and buried his hands in Bucky’s hair.

“Fuck…” Bucky murmured before wrapping his lips around the head and sucking.

Bucky could have easily lost his mind with the way Steve’s hips tilted up and his hands pushed down gently on the back of Bucky’s head as his lips wrapped around the tip of Steve’s cock, moaning loudly as Bucky’s mouth slid over his shaft, and uttering noises that could almost have been words, choked off before they were fully formed. Bucky really wished he could stop and take a picture, because if it wasn’t the most gorgeous thing he’d ever seen then he’d be fucked sideways. 

At the same time, there was no fucking way Bucky was going to stop for anything, because Steve had one fist in Bucky’s hair and the other bunched up in the sheet under him, head thrown right back, mouth open, and oh god the noises he was making drove Bucky wild. He was loud, he was vocal, and Bucky loved it.

“More…” Steve gasped, his fingers digging into Bucky’s scalp as he tried to tilt his hips up further.

Bucky chuckled as he pulled up and off, panting slightly, and looked up the whole length of Steve’s body. Steve knew what he wanted, that was for sure and Bucky would happily give it to him. Already he looked so fucked out, eyes wide and his head thrown back against the mattress that Bucky didn’t think he could possibly wait much longer even if he wanted to. He sent up a silent thank you to Natasha, wherever she was at that moment, for putting supplies into his wallet.

He tried hard to stop his hands from shaking as he tore open the little packet of lube and squeezed it onto his fingers, watching Steve’s face closely for any signs of discomfort or pain as he pressed gently against the tight ring of muscle, feeling it give slightly as his fingertip breached it and was immediately enveloped in Steve’s tight heat. God, but he sounded gorgeous and looked like heaven, and Bucky could have died happy right then as Steve’s blue eyes went wide as they locked onto Bucky’s, his mouth forming a perfect ‘o’ and letting out the tiniest whimper.

Bucky took his time to prep him enough, using his fingers to slowly and gently open Steve up. Steve pulled and tugged at Bucky’s hair, fingers twisting in to the strands until it was a tangled mess, digging his nails into Bucky’s scalp until his eyes watered. Bucky’s fingers dipped and turned and pushed, his mouth alternating between sucking dark purple bruises onto Steve’s thighs and tonguing at the head of his cock, until Steve was pushing back against him in frustration, loud moans filling the room.

“God, Stevie,” Bucky whispered, pressing his lips to the inside of Steve’s thigh. “You have no idea how much I’ve been wanting this. From the first moment I saw you I just wanted to kiss you, wanted to touch you. You look so fucking amazing, baby – the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”

Steve moaned softly as Bucky curled his fingers inside of him, and if Bucky hadn’t known better, he’d have thought Steve was reacting to his whispered words as well as his actions.

He licked and sucked a path of sloppy kisses up Steve’s body and Steve’s hands were everywhere, sliding over Bucky’s sweat-hazed skin in an attempt to bring their mouths together as Bucky’s fingers moved inside of him. Bucky had never felt so desperate to be inside another person and he wanted to bury himself inside Steve right then, to turn those sweet whimpers and moans into full-on screams of pleasure. Steve panted open-mouthed against Bucky’s lips, his eyes open and pupils blown as he ground back hard against Bucky’s fingers.

“Now…” Steve whimpered. “Please…” 

Bucky swallowed hard and nodded.

“Okay…okay.”

Bucky would be lying if he said he hadn’t fantasized about this moment, and he knew he was trembling as he pressed a soft, chaste kiss to Steve’s lips and carefully withdrew his fingers from Steve’s body, biting his lip at the needy sound that bubbled up in Steve’s throat.

He dropped the condom packet twice through nervousness. He wanted this so badly, wanted to bury himself inside this gorgeous young man who wanted him back, but he was so scared of fucking up, of hurting him. Steve was tiny and delicate and Bucky was just this big hulking mass who didn’t know his own strength half the time, who was still re-learning how to use two hands. He squeezed his eyes shut and gripped the little foil packet tightly, sucking in a deep breath.

“Get a fucking grip, Barnes,” he gritted through clenched teeth.

Suddenly, a pair of large warm hands covered his and Bucky’s eyes few open to find Steve kneeling in front of him, blond hair darkened at his hairline from sweat, rose flush extending from his face and down over his neck and chest, still breathing hard. He smiled, and Bucky watched mesmerised as Steve raised both of Bucky’s hands to his lips and pressed a kiss against his knuckles.

Steve wordlessly took the packet from him and opened it, his fingers shaking too although not nearly as badly as Bucky’s. His heart leapt as Steve leaned forward and kissed him, and Bucky groaned into his mouth as Steve’s hand wrapped around the base of Bucky’s shaft, sending a white hot flash through his belly and thighs. Bucky was hard as a rock and leaking, holding on for dear life to Steve’s skinny shoulders as the condom was rolled down over his cock, and Steve pulled away from him, slowly lowering himself back down onto the mattress.

Talk about a fucking virgin sacrifice, Bucky thought to himself as he hastily broke open the second packet of lube and slicked himself up, squeezing the base of his shaft hard to ground himself. He couldn’t afford to lose it too fast. Steve was staring at him with big innocent eyes, biting his lip bashfully even as he wrapped his ankles around the back of Bucky’s thighs and pulled him forward. One thin arm wrapped around Bucky’s shoulders and Steve’s other hand reached up to caress his cheek, such a sweet and tender gesture that Bucky’s heart almost burst.

Steve’s legs wrapped around his thighs, little body shaking but his face showing no sign of apprehension or fear as Bucky tilted his hips, feeling the wet slide of his cock between those perfect ass-cheeks, the pressure as he pushed up against the tight hole and the sudden give as he slid inside so smoothly, so slowly. It was unbelievable – so hot and tight and slick, and he watched as Steve’s mouth dropped open with a little gasp and a sharp moan, fingers digging into Bucky’s shoulder.

"Bucky…"

Bucky couldn’t stop the groan that left his body as his head hit Steve’s shoulder, now buried completely inside of that sweet tight heat. If he’d been wrecked before now it was nothing compared to hearing Steve say his name aloud for the first time. Bucky slid his arms under Steve’s shoulders and kissed a line up the side of the long delicate neck, over his jaw to those full lips as he drew his hips back.

“Oh fuck, you feel so good, baby…”

He moved as slow as he could bear it, barely doing more than roll his hips for the first couple of minutes while he swallowed Steve’s noises in kisses. After a little while he could feel the tension in Steve’s body begin to dissipate and he started to draw his hips back a little further each time, moving inside Steve with long, deep strokes, pushing back sweat-soaked hair from Steve’s forehead and kissing away every sharp gasp. Steve’s eyes never left his, boring into his soul and making Bucky feel hot and bare.

“Fuck, Stevie, you’re so amazing,” he whispered, not caring a bit if Steve couldn’t hear him. “You’re so fucking beautiful, so perfect…”

Steve whined softly and dug his heels into the backs of Bucky’s thighs, his free hand sliding up and into Bucky’s hair again. God, but it was torture to move so slowly and Bucky wasn’t sure if he could restrain himself for much longer – he could already feel the tension coiling in the pit of his belly and in his legs. Steve was so tight and so hot and looked so fucking wrecked. Damn it, Bucky so desperately wanted this to be slow and last for ages but was pretty sure he might just explode if he kept at this pace.

Steve’s heels dug hard into Bucky’s back like he couldn’t get him deep enough, still hard as a rock and leaking against Bucky’s belly. Steve’s sky blue eyes locked on his, legs wrapped tightly around Bucky’s waist, hands wrapped into his loose hair as he just nodded slowly.

“Harder…” Steve murmured.

Bucky’s eyes slammed shut as another flash of heat hit his belly like lightning and he bit his bottom lip hard, his brain almost ceasing to function - Steve just gave him permission to let go.

He uttered a string of curse words as he picked up his pace, spurred on by Steve’s moans growing louder until they turned into cries, his fingernails digging so hard into Bucky’s scalp and back that they might actually draw blood. It was so good – unlike anything he’d ever felt before and Bucky buried his face into Steve’s shoulder as his momentum pushed them further up the bed with every thrust as he began to babble incessantly.

“Oh my fucking Christ, Stevie…fuck, baby…you feel so good, you’re so fucking gorgeous…fuck…Steve…STEVE…”

Bucky was approaching orgasm too fast, almost too gone to even think any more. He managed to hold his weight on his left arm, sliding his right hand between their bodies to wrap it around Steve’s dick, biting his lip as Steve threw his head back against the mattress and tilting his hips into Bucky’s touch. Retaining just enough wit as he hurtled towards his own release, Bucky jerked him in time with his own thrusts, half mad with the way Steve seemed caught between fucking up into his hand and pushing back against Bucky when he slammed up against his ass.

He was sure it was too hard, too much and he was willing himself to slow down when Steve went rigid beneath him, back arching and head lolling right back as he came hard and long, cock spurting thick pearly white come all over his stomach and Bucky’s hand. Bucky stared in awe at the bright pink flush over Steve’s body, the way his fingers dug into Bucky’s flesh, the strangled cry that ripped from his throat. It was better than he ever could have imagined it – seeing Steve…feeling Steve come, was enough to tip Bucky over the edge in a rush of white heat that left him shuddering and gasping for air like a fish out of water.

“S-steve…”

Exhausted and dripping with sweat, Bucky collapsed onto both elbows and buried his head into Steve’s neck, feeling the fast rise and fall of the narrow ribcage underneath him, his toes numb. It was a good few minutes before he felt aware of Steve’s hands on him, gently stroking over his skin and kisses being pressed into his shoulder. Slowly, shakily, he raised himself up a little to look at his boyfriend.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

Steve was flushed and sweaty, his blond hair soaked near his scalp, but he smiled at Bucky, bright and beautiful and perfect, nodding enthusiastically as he started to laugh.

 _“I want to do that again,”_ Steve signed when he managed to get his hands in front of him. _“And again…and again…and again.”_

Bucky couldn’t stop himself from laughing too, short and breathless as he leaned back in and kissed the tip of Steve’s nose before pressing their sweat-soaked foreheads together.

“Okay,” he breathed.

God, he would have been happy staying just like that for the rest of his life, lying there in a post-coital haze with Steve’s head pillowed on his chest, those artist’s hands tracing soft patterns on his skin as Bucky lazily stroked over the sharp vertebrae on Steve’s back and pressed kisses into his damp hair. He didn’t even care that they were both sticky and sweaty and covered in come and probably stinking to high heaven. It was still perfect.

Bucky woke up with a jolt as his phone message tone sounded loudly and cut through the haze of sleep. It was getting dark and Steve was still tucked up into him, the blanket now covering them both. Steve stirred as Bucky slid out from under him and reached around on the floor for his pants, taking out his phone and reading the message.

“Damn it,” he muttered.

He glanced over his shoulder and felt his heart melt at the sight of Steve, naked and muss-haired, eyes still hazy with sleep and smiling at him. Bucky crawled back up the bed to kiss him softly.

 _“I have to go home,”_ Bucky signed. _“Nat, Clint and I have a yearly tradition and they are asking me to hurry up.”_

Steve huffed out a single laugh and nodded, leaning forward to kiss him again.

Bucky shuffled to the end of the mattress, well aware of Steve’s eyes roaming all over his naked body as he searched for his underwear and jeans. He felt the mattress shift and then Steve’s soft hands were on his skin, roaming up over his shoulders as his chest pressed against Bucky’s back, lips pressing kisses just behind his ear. Bucky groaned helplessly, pants still halfway around his knees as he leaned back into Steve’s touch. He so desperately wanted to kick his jeans off again and crawl back under the blanket for round two but Natasha would kill him for not turning up to their post-Thanksgiving dinner tradition.

With effort, he pulled himself away and stood up, pulling his pants on properly before hunting for his shirt. With a soft smile, he pulled it on and knelt back on the mattress, crawling over to wear Steve sat, blanket wrapped around him and arms hugging his knees. Bucky took Steve’s face in his hands and kissed him gently. God, how he didn’t want to leave.

Sighing, he pushed Steve’s messed hair back from his face and dropped his hands so they were in front of him.

 _“That was amazing,”_ he signed.

Steve instantly blushed, but his smile was wide as he bit his lower lip to try to contain it.

 _“Yes,”_ he responded. _“It was.”_

Bucky felt his own cheeks grow warm and he glanced down for a second before looking back into those beautiful sky blue eyes.

_“I will be better next time, I promise.”_

Steve’s eyes grew wide.

_“It gets better?”_

A surprised laugh, sudden and loud, fell from his mouth and he clapped his hand over it. It had felt too good – Steve had been so beautiful and responsive to Bucky’s touch, too hot and tight and damn sweet for Bucky to last nearly as long as he had managed to. He didn’t think he’d lasted ten minutes once he’d been buried deep inside of that gorgeous heat with Steve’s moans loud in his ear and his fingernails digging into Bucky’s shoulders.

Taking his hand away from his mouth, he took Steve’s face in his hands and pressed their foreheads together, nodding his head lightly.

“Yeah,” he whispered. “It gets a whole lot better.”

Steve kissed him, sweet and soft and slow, his fingers curled up against Bucky’s jaw and Bucky groaned gently into it. It only lasted a minute, and then Steve was pulling back, drawing the blanket back up around him.

 _“Let me know that you get home safe,”_ Steve signed, smiling.

 _“I will,”_ Bucky replied.

He bit his lip and swallowed the next words that wanted to come out of his mouth. His heart was overflowing and his stomach nothing but a flurry of butterflies, and Bucky knew…he knew he was head over heels in love. But he couldn’t say it just yet. Instead, he kissed Steve very lightly on the forehead and got up, signing goodbye and walking to the door, casting one last glance over his shoulder to make sure the image of Steve, bare but for the blanket covering him from the waist down, looking sleepy and gorgeous and well-fucked, was the last thing he saw before he left.

~

Steve lay there for a while afterwards, unable to wipe the huge smile from his face even when his cheeks started to hurt. His skin still tingled where Bucky’s hands had held him and his heart still pounded in his chest at the sheer memory. That had been the single most amazing experience of his entire life, and of that he was absolutely sure.

He ran it all through his head over and over, how sweet and fucking nervous Bucky had been, how his touch had set Steve’s blood on fire and had him needing more and more. Steve couldn’t lie that it hadn’t exactly been comfortable at first, that initial breach by Bucky’s finger but god, his boyfriend had worked hard to distract him from it. He’d loved every second of it, and the harder Bucky had gone, the more Steve had liked it. He hadn’t expected that at all.

It took him at least half an hour after Bucky left before Steve could get up and manage to throw on the bare minimum of clothes he needed to make it back downstairs to the apartment. He was sticky with sweat and his own come, muscles already starting to ache but he didn’t care – Steve was walking on air, high on residual Bucky Barnes.

He zoned out in the shower a couple of times and wasted an awful lot of hot water, and he was still grinning as he dried off and re-dressed in clean clothes. It was full dark by the time Steve made a sandwich from the leftover turkey and all but skipped into the living room where his mother was up again and back to sewing her quilt. He beamed at her as he threw himself down on the couch and munched happily at his sandwich, not even paying attention to the TV as he looked at it.

It took him a few minutes to sense that he was being watched and he slowly turned his face towards his mother – she had stopped her sewing and was smirking at him from her chair.

 _“Are you okay?”_ she signed.

Steve swallowed his bite of sandwich and nodded. He was more than okay. He was fucking awesome. And he was still grinning like a total idiot. There was absolutely no way he could hide what had just happened with Bucky and he felt his cheeks grow warm as his mother started to laugh.

Steve shook his head and took another bite of his sandwich, staring pointedly back at the TV to cover his own mild embarrassment. It was probably radiating from him and Steve honestly didn’t care – he was twenty four years old and he’d just experienced something amazing with a guy he was completely in love with. He would have told the whole world if he could.

~

Natasha and Clint were sitting on the floor in Bucky’s apartment, their usual post-Thanksgiving dinner ritual already well underway as Bucky wandered in, still feeling slightly dazed. A bottle of Russian Standard vodka and three shot glasses sat next to them and they both looked up from pouring as Bucky closed the door behind him.

“Well, you’re fucking late,” Natasha said cheerfully, pouring Bucky a shot and holding it out. “And you’re about five shots behind us, so get drinking.”

“How was it?” Clint asked with a grin as Bucky threw his jacket on the couch and collapsed heavily on the floor between his friends, taking the shot from Nat and knocking it back in one.

They did this every year after spending holidays with their families – Natasha’s were overbearing and disapproved of most of her life choices aside from her career, and Clint’s were dysfunctional as fuck. Bucky’s foster family of about sixty people was actually the least stressful to be around, but they all got together afterwards to wind down and complain.

The vodka went down smoothly with very little burn, which was the sign of a damn good purity alcohol and Bucky nodded swiftly.

“Fine,” he breathed. “It was fine.”

If he’d thought that maybe he could hide anything from them though, Bucky had been sorely mistaken, because even as he poured his second shot he knew they were both studying his every move.

“Oh my god,” Natasha muttered eventually. “You totally did it, didn’t you?”

“Did what?” asked Clint.

Bucky knocked back his second shot and reached for the bottle again.

“Shut up, Nat.”

“Did what?” Clint pressed.

“He totally fucked Steve!” Nat replied gleefully.

“Shut up, Nat.”

“WHAT?” Clint choked out, his jaw dropping as he looked from Nat to Bucky, and back again.

“Shut up, Nat.”

“Check his wallet,” Natasha continued, as though Bucky hadn’t spoken at all. “I’ll bet you he’s a condom short.”

“Jesus fucking Christ!” Bucky yelled, throwing his hands up in defeat. “What the fuck are you guys, the Sex Police?”

“Sounds like a really shitty eighties punk band,” replied Clint with a grin.

“Just admit it,” added Nat.

Bucky gaped at the both before finally letting out a heavy sigh.

“Fine. Yes, okay? We had sex. Are you happy now?”

Natasha cackled gleefully as Clint started to laugh. Bucky shook his head at them both.

“Oh my god, that’s awesome,” Natasha said, grinning. “What was that even like?”

For a second, Bucky thought about telling her to go to hell. He wasn’t going to give out any of the more intimate details, but something had been weighing heavy on his mind from the second he’d discovered it. He had to tell somebody.

“He was a virgin.”

“Holy Hell,” Clint murmured.

“What? Say that again.”

“He was a virgin,” Bucky repeated, a little louder. “I just…deflowered a virgin.”

“Woah, back up there, Jane Austen.” Clint said with amusement. “Did you just say ‘deflowered’? What is this, the eighteenth century?”

Bucky shot Clint a look and poured another shot. Natasha was still laughing to herself.

“Okay, okay,” she said, taking the bottle from Bucky as he sipped at his glass this time. “I need details. Give me details. Is he a top or a bottom? I see scratches on the back of your neck, so it obviously got a little wild at some point. Did you try and take it slow or was it like a total, pants-ripping kind of affair? Oh! What’s his dick like?”

Natasha trailed off as she realised that both guys were just staring at her in horror.

“What?” she asked.

Clint reached over and patted her knee gently.

“Nat. Guys don’t do that - the talking thing.”

“Nope,” agreed Bucky.

Natasha raised a perfect eyebrow in confusion.

“So what do you do?”

Clint and Bucky looked at each other and Clint raised his fist, grinning.

“Bro?”

Bucky grinned back and bumped Clint’s fist with his own.

“Yeah,” he replied.

“Awesome.”

Natasha made a noise of disgust and lay down on the floor, rolling onto her back and folding her hands over her stomach.

“Ugh…you boys make the worst girlfriends,” she muttered.

Bucky grinned at her.

“You’ll get over it,” he replied.

She would probably keep asking, but Bucky was a damn gentleman – he’d never give her the details. He didn’t want anybody else in the world to know just how gorgeous Steve was naked and moaning and asking for more. Those memories he was going to keep for himself.


	14. Chapter 14

Steve had pretty much been the only thought in Bucky’s head since Thanksgiving. Granted, it had only been a couple of days, but his brain had found it excruciatingly difficult to focus on anything else that wasn’t to do with remembering everything about that afternoon. He’d zoned out so many times remembering the feel of Steve’s heels digging into his thighs, Steve’s fingernails scraping over his shoulders as he’d tried to pull Bucky closer, the long line of his throat as his head fell back against the mattress and the sounds that Bucky had pulled from him. The whole thing drove him almost to insanity, and Bucky found himself spending a lot of time at the piano in an attempt to channel his thoughts and feelings into music.

It was Saturday and Clint was asleep and oblivious to Bucky’s piano playing. The composition inspired by Steve was getting longer and more fleshed out, Bucky pouring every thought and emotion he had about Steve into it. He lost track of time as always, having no idea how long he’d been sitting there at his piano until he was startled by a sharp knock at the front door, and this month’s latest rescue dog jumped up from his position by the window and let out a short bark. Frowning, Bucky stood up and padded to the door. He was incredibly surprised to find Sam Wilson standing there, bundled up against the wintery weather in hat, scarf, gloves and coat, with Steve standing behind him, dressed much the same and grinning at Bucky, madly.

“Come on loser,” Sam said, brushing past Bucky and into the nice warm apartment. “Get dressed – my man Steve wants to go shopping for a Christmas tree.”

Bucky’s eyebrows shot up as he looked from Sam to Steve, who edged quietly into the apartment and stood on tiptoe to kiss the edge of Bucky’s jaw.

“When you say ‘shopping for a tree’, you mean…?”

 _“Tree farm,”_ Steve signed with a smile as Bucky closed the front door and groaned audibly.

Bucky was a Brooklyn boy through and through. He liked the city – he liked the noise and the bustle, and god damn it, he even liked the pollution. Tree farms meant the country, and the country was quiet and dark and smelled weird. He hated it.

 _“Can’t you just get a plastic one from the store?”_ he asked.

Steve looked scandalised.

 _“No,”_ he signed determinedly. _“We are going to the tree farm. Get dressed.”_

Bucky whined desperately and threw a glance in Sam’s direction, but Wilson was no ally in this.

“Don’t look at me, man,” Sam told him, hands up defensively. “I get roped into this every year – it’s your turn to share the horror of Christmas tree shopping with Steve Rogers in upstate New York.”

Steve smiled sweetly at him and Bucky knew that he had no choice – one look at those big blue eyes and that innocent smile and Bucky would do anything Steve wanted. He gave a resigned sigh and stepped forward, wrapping an arm around Steve’s waist and pulling him in, landing a soft kiss on Steve’s lips.

“Fine,” he said as he pulled away, stomach flipping as Steve’s expression turned to one of joy.

How he could ever deny Steve anything, Bucky would never know.

It didn’t take him too long to get changed – jeans, t-shirt, hooded sweatshirt, Doc Martens laced up fully to keep out the damp snow that had started to fall – and he was pulling on his pea coat, on his way back into the living room when he spotted Steve on his knees in the middle of the floor, giving the dog’s belly a vigorous rub. Both dog and Steve looked delighted.

 _“You didn’t tell me you had a dog,”_ Steve signed as he looked up.

 _“He’s new,”_ Bucky responded. _“Clint brings home strays, feeds them up and finds them new homes.”_

Steve nodded as he scratched the dog’s ears gently.

_“What is his name?”_

_“L-U-C-K-Y.”_

All of Clint’s dogs were called Lucky. Clint always said that the dogs were lucky that he found them in the first place. Bucky just supposed it was easier to remember one name than to try to find new ones every couple of months.

Struck with an idea, Bucky unhooked the collar and lead that hung on the coat pegs in the hallway and turned to Sam.

“I’m guessing it’s your car we’re taking – mind if we take the dog along?”

Sam looked at Steve who was still on the floor with Lucky, attention focussed on giving the dog’s ears a thorough scratch. Bucky grinned to himself – Sam was wearing the exact same expression that Bucky had just ten minutes earlier when he’d been convinced to go to the tree farm in the first place. It looked like Bucky wasn’t the only one who would do anything to make Steve happy.

“Alright,” Sam replied. “But he sits in the back with you.”

~

Scratch what he’d thought earlier – Bucky didn’t hate the country, he fucking despised it.

They had been trudging around the tree farm for a whole hour, following Steve as he led with Lucky on a leash, going from spruce to spruce and sighing when they obviously failed to meet his requirements. Bucky was almost up to his knees in snow, thanking his stars that the ground was too frozen for mud, and shivering uncontrollably.

“Does it usually take this long?” he whined to Sam who looked just as cold and fed up as Bucky felt.

“Oh yeah,” Sam replied. “Every fucking year, man. It’s the same routine.”

“How do you put up with it?”

Sam turned his face towards Bucky and grinned at him.

“Because he’s my best friend,” he replied. “Besides, you’ve seen that face! How can anyone say no to that face?”

Bucky laughed softly as he pulled his scarf up a little higher around his throat.

“You have a point.”

His eyes turned back to Steve who was about ten feet ahead of them, studying the pine needles of another tree closely before shaking his head, brows knitted together in a frown as he walked off with Lucky at his heels. Christmas tree shopping was obviously very serious business for Steve Rogers.

“You know, I honestly didn’t think you’d last past the first date,” Sam said suddenly, breaking into Bucky’s thoughts.

“Excuse me?”

Sam held his hands up defensively.

“No offense, man,” he replied. “It’s just that, well, it’s not easy trying to communicate with somebody who’s Deaf. I grew up using ASL so its second nature to me to use it, but not everyone else in the world is so accommodating. I figured that, regardless of the fact that you started with the best of intentions, after one date you’d figure it was too difficult and give up.”

“Is that what people usually do?” Bucky asked.

Sam shrugged and Bucky glanced back at Steve, a small figure bundled up in a thick coat, scarf, gloved and hat, a whisper of straw-blond hair peeking out to lie over his forehead. Bucky had been in love with him from the first second he’d seen him, sitting and sketching in that bookstore and that feeling was not going away any time soon. In fact, the more time he spent with Steve, the more Bucky was sure he never wanted to be apart from him.

“It’s not easy,” Bucky admitted eventually. “I learned a whole new language just to talk to the guy and a lot of people might think that’s crazy or too much effort, but I think he’s worth it. It’s not like it’s been impossible.”

“I’m actually pretty impressed at how fast you’ve picked it up,” Sam told him, nudging Bucky’s shoulder lightly with his own.

“Yeah, well,” Bucky replied, rubbing the back of his neck with a gloved hand. “I’ve kinda been neglecting the rest of my studies in favour of spending every available minute learning ASL.”

Sam laughed at him.

“Man, you are SO far gone with that little shit.”

“Yeah, I am…”

They fell quiet for a minute as they watched Steve stop at yet another tree and look it over with his keen blue eyes before wandering off again. Sam sighed dramatically.

“That asshole is going to look at every damn tree on this entire twenty acre property, I just know it,” he muttered.

Bucky had thought he was joking, but almost an hour later, they had reached the edge of the tree farm and he could no longer feel his toes.

 _“Steve, come on!”_ Sam signed desperately. _“Just pick a tree. Any tree!”_

Steve looked at them both and frowned for a moment, wrapping the dog leash around his hand a couple of times as Lucky waited patiently at Steve’s feet and stared adoring up at him. Suddenly, Steve’s sky-blue eyes went wide and brightened with realisation.

 _“I know which one I want,”_ he signed quickly before taking off in the direction they’d just come.

“Fucking finally,” Sam muttered under his breath.

They all trudged through the snow, past every single fucking spruce that Steve had looked at until they were all right back to where they had started, Bucky and Steve staring in disbelief as Steve walked right up to one of the eight-foot potted trees outside of the main building and beamed at them both.

 _“I want this one,”_ Steve signed.

 _“Dude,”_ Sam responded, eying the tree dubiously, _“That is not going to fit in the car.”_

Steve’s cheeks and nose were bright red with cold and when he turned those gorgeous baby blues onto Sam, he looked so damn adorable that Bucky wanted to sweep him up and kiss him right then and there. If it had been his car, Bucky would have given in immediately but it took Steve a couple of minutes to batter down Sam’s defences and convince him that this was the tree they were getting. Eventually, Sam threw his hands up in defeat and Bucky helped him lash the enormous Christmas tree to the top of the Honda while Steve bounced excitedly on the balls of his feet and scratched Lucky’s ears.

By the time they had finished, Steve’s entire body was shaking with cold and Bucky could hear the wheeze in Steve’s lungs when he stepped close.

 _“Baby, you’re freezing,”_ he signed, frowning slightly as he moved forward and wrapped both of his arms around Steve’s body, pulling him close.

Teeth chattering, Steve just looked up at him and smiled.

“Sam?” Bucky called over his shoulder. “My Stevie is shivering his ass off here, so I’m gonna keep him warm in the back with me, okay?”

Sam groaned loudly as he took Lucky’s leash from Steve and opened the front passenger door for the dog.

“Please don’t make me regret this,” Sam mumbled as Bucky grinned and pulled Steve into the back seat of the Honda.

Sam turned the heat up full and pulled away from the tree farm with Bucky hugging Steve close to him, the rattle in his chest easing after a few puffs of his inhaler, and after a few moments, those small shoulders stopped shaking. Bucky pushed the black woollen beanie from Steve’s hair and shook off the melted droplets of snow, depositing it onto the floor as Steve smiled up at him.

“Better?” Bucky asked, his arms still wrapped around Steve’s back.

“Yes,” murmured Steve in reply, reaching up to give Bucky a kiss.

Steve smelled gorgeous – of pine and snow and fresh air, and Bucky couldn’t stop himself from running his gloved fingers softly through Steve’s hair, pressing more gentle kisses to those plump lips, slightly chapped from the cold winter air. Bucky sighed softly as Steve’s hands found their way inside of Bucky’s coat, his slender fingers trailing a path up Bucky’s sides and curling into the soft cotton of his shirt. God, it had only been two days since they’d first had sex, but Bucky craved Steve so badly. Just the slightest touch was enough to make Bucky pull Steve in a little closer, kiss him a little harder, hands running up the side of Steve’s neck to cup his jaw as their tongues pressed together and Steve let out a soft whine against Bucky’s lips.

Suddenly, the car jolted to a stop at the lights, dislodging Steve and Bucky and almost throwing the Christmas tree forward off the roof of the car. Startled and disoriented, Bucky glanced up to see Sam glaring at them over his shoulder from the driver’s seat.

“Guys – you are NOT Beyonce and Jay-Z. There is no god damn partition in my mom’s Honda Civic!”

Bucky and Steve looked at each other and Steve snorted, covering his mouth with a hand as he scuttled to the opposite side of the back seat.

“Sorry, Sam,” Bucky apologised, trying to hide his grin as Sam turned around again and put the car back into gear. “It won’t happen again.”

All the same, Steve’s hand ended up on Bucky’s thigh for the rest of the car journey home, stroking over his jeans in a manner that wasn’t entirely innocent.

~

Steve held the door to the apartment open and got a mouth full of pine needles for his trouble as Bucky and Sam forced the tree through the doorway and wrestled it into the living room. Steve walked in behind them with Lucky and laughed at the expression on Sarah’s face.

 _“What in the world?! Did you boys dig up a tree? Please tell me it didn’t come from the Park…and is that a DOG?"_ she signed as she spoke and Nancy Wilson just stared at them with her mouth open, patting Sarah’s shoulder in a comforting way.

Steve walked over and kissed her thin cheek.

 _“I wanted to do something special this year, so I bought a tree that can be replanted after Christmas. Bucky and I are going to plant it over at his Aunt Helen’s house.”_ He turned and winked at Bucky. _“Maybe one day it will have a treehouse in it and 20 kids swinging from the branches.”_

When he turned back, Sarah had her eyebrow raised.

_“And the dog?”_

Steve knelt down and wrapped his arms around Lucky and buried his cheek into the soft fur, getting a cold nose in his neck in return.

 _“This is L-U-C-K-Y. He’s one of Clint’s strays but he came with us today. Sam is going to take him back to Bucky’s apartment for us,”_ he signed with his arms still partially around the mutt.

Nancy’s head shot up and she pointed at Sam where he was suddenly trying to make himself small enough to hide behind Bucky, signing automatically as she spoke.

"Samuel Wilson, PLEASE tell me you did not have a dog in my car. You know what? I don’t even want to know." 

Sam shot Steve a dirty look.

 _“Then you really don’t want to know what was happening in the back seat!"_ Sam signed.

Steve’s face flamed red and he saw Bucky give Sam a playful one-armed shove before covering his face with his hands. Sam laughed at them as his mother heaved a sigh and kissed Sarah on the cheek before walking over to take Lucky’s leash from Steve. He leaned down once more and scratched the soft spot between Lucky’s ears, wishing he could adopt the little animal. It would just be too much right now though with his little art exhibition opening soon, his work, and his mother’s illness. A pet would require more time than he would be able to put in.

He walked Sam, Nancy, and Lucky to the door, taking Bucky’s hand on the way and thanking Nancy for staying with his mother. When the door closed behind them, he pressed his body to Bucky’s in the dark foyer. He wrapped his arms around Bucky’s waist and strong arms circled his shoulders. He tipped his chin up and grazed his lips against Bucky’s and melted against his boyfriend as Bucky deepened the kiss. A strand of Bucky’s hair tickled his cheek and Steve automatically reached up and tucked it behind his ear, and cupping the back of Bucky’s neck.

It was so easy to forget everything when he was kissing Bucky. All of his troubles, his anxiety, his worries disappeared when he got lost in the soft slide of lips and tongue and the tiny moans he could feel vibrate against his mouth. He nipped Bucky’s irresistible bottom lip and pulled back.

 _“I pulled the boxes with the decorations out of storage last night. After my mom goes to rest, maybe we can pick up where we left off in the car,”_ Steve signed, grinning wickedly.

Bucky leaned down and kissed him once more in answer and who could blame him if Steve reached around and gave Bucky’s firm ass a quick squeeze. Bucky huffed against his lips and grinned.

_“You are a menace. You look innocent but you don’t fool me, S-T-E-V-I-E.”_

Steve winked at him as they walked back onto the living room to find Sarah sitting smugly with something red in her lap. Steve instantly knew what she was holding and he took his hand off of Bucky’s waist to cross his arms stubbornly in front of him. 

"No, Ma." he said aloud.

Sarah narrowed her eyes and he saw her lips move as she said “YES”, and held out the red furry Santa hat. He knew he wouldn’t get any help from Bucky when he saw him shaking with helpless laughter. Bucky wiped his eyes and signed,

 _“Come on S-T-E-V-I-E! It will look so cute on you! The colour will really make your eyes pop…”_ but his hands froze in mid-air as Sarah slowly pulled out a second hat with her eyebrow raised and it was Steve’s turn to chuckle at his boyfriend’s expression.

He threw his hands in the air, getting Bucky’s attention.

_“We might as well do it, baby. Ma always gets her way in the end anyway.”_

He took the hats from Sarah, pulling one over his blonde hair and holding the other out for Bucky. Bucky put it on and crossed his eyes at Steve and really it was unfair that even in a decades-old stupid-looking Santa hat, Bucky was still the sexiest thing Steve had ever seen in his life. He realized that he was staring at his boyfriend with a goofy grin on his face when a flash suddenly went off, startling them both. He looked over at his mother who was putting the camera away and eyeing the giant tree as she signed,

_“You boys had better get to work decorating that monstrosity. It might take until New Years.”_

Thankfully, it didn’t take until New Years to decorate the Christmas tree, which was nicknamed ‘The Big Green Hulk’ by Bucky, but it did take the better part of two hours, including the time that they spent untangling the strands of tiny Christmas lights. When Bucky opened the bin and pulled out the gigantic tangled ball of lights with a look of dismay on his face, Steve winced. He always meant to put the lights away properly but every single year, it seemed like he just wrapped them together in a hurry and threw them in the plastic bin to be painstakingly unknotted the next year. He supposed it was a type of Christmas tradition of its own. He didn’t have to hear to know that Bucky was grumbling as he sat on the floor, surrounded by various strings of lights, and he couldn’t help pressing a quick kiss to his cheek just to see him smile. By the time they managed to get the lights strung around the tree and they hung up the ornaments, most of which were made by Steve as a child ( _“What even IS this macaroni-creature, S-T-E-V-I-E?” “It’s an angel, you J-E-R-K!”_ ), Sarah was ready to switch out her oxygen tank and go lay down to rest. She leaned against Steve heavily as Bucky put the star on top of the tree and he could feel her sigh.

_“It’s just beautiful. You boys did a wonderful job.”_

She stared at the twinkling lights and multi-coloured ornaments for a minute more and Steve saw that she had tears in her eyes when she turned toward her room. He stepped forward to help her with a lump in his throat.

"Ma?"

She waved her hand at him and gave a quick laugh.

 _”I’m fine,”_ she signed. _“I just get a little emotional about silly things these days. You guys hang out and decorate the fireplace. I’ll call for you if I need you.”_

Steve hugged her tightly, feeling the jut of her bones, too close to the skin, and she went in her room down the hall. He heard her door close and finally let his shoulders drop momentarily under the weight of his sorrow before straightening up and facing Bucky, who was looking at him with an expression of concern.

 _“Are you okay, Steve?”_ he signed and Steve nodded slowly, taking a deep breath.

He would be okay. He had to be okay for his mom. She had always fought for him and now it was his turn to do the same for her. Steve pointed to the bin containing the wreath for the front door.

_“Would you do the honour of hanging the wreath up, while I hang the stockings? I think I will make some hot cocoa after.”_

Bucky smiled, even though his eyes were still dark with worry, and he squeezed Steve’s hand before picking up the wreath. 

Steve took the two stockings, handmade by Sarah when he was a newborn, and the hangers and he put them in place. Two stockings with two names: Steven and Sarah. One had beautiful poinsettia flowers on it and the other had a toy soldier standing at attention. For as long as he remembered, they had hung side by side from the mantle, Christmas after Christmas, for his entire life. He stood staring helplessly at the stockings that swayed gently forward and back, buffeted by the heat from the fire as tears rolled down his cheeks. He didn’t know why it was this particular moment that his mind chose to accept the inevitable but he finally accepted that this would be his final Christmas with his mom.

He suddenly felt warm hands, flesh and metal, on his shoulders, gently turning him before pulling him into a tight embrace. Steve grabbed on to Bucky’s shirt like a lifeline, sobbing into his shoulder silently, letting go the way he had never allowed himself to do before. He could feel Bucky’s hands rubbing comforting circles on his back and could feel the vibration of his words. When he finally stopped shaking, Bucky gently stroked his thumb under Steve’s eyes, wiping away the moisture and Steve could see that Bucky had tears in his own eyes as well.

"I’m sorry…" Steve started to whisper but Bucky shook his head firmly.

 _“Don’t be,”_ Bucky signed. _“I’m here for you. I’ll always be here for you, S-T-E-V-I-E. Tell me what you need.”_

Steve’s eyes started to fill with tears again. He didn’t know what he had done to deserve such a wonderful man in his life but it must have been something really amazing.

 _“Stay. Please stay with me.”_ he signed.

Bucky took his hands in his own and kissed them, and Steve could feel Bucky’s breath whisper over his knuckles.

"Always," Bucky told him.

When he looked up, Steve managed a watery laugh and flicked the fuzzy ball at the end of Bucky’s Santa hat.

_“You look ridiculous, you know.”_

Bucky grinned back and posed for a second before signing,

_“You know you love it! Now get over here and kiss me.”_

Steve pulled him in close, knocking the silly hat off of his head and running his fingers through Bucky’s hair.

 _“You’re right,”_ he responded. _“I do love it.”_

~

Steve wasn’t sure that he could ever get enough of this feeling – of being stretched and filled up with Bucky’s cock, of sinking down slowly, inch by inch on slicked flesh until his buttocks rested firmly on Bucky’s thighs and he was gasping sharply into the stillness of the bedroom. Steve’s vision went white at the edges as his fingernails dug into the toned muscle of Bucky’s stomach, grounded only by the contrasting cool and warmth of Bucky’s hands stroking soothingly up his thighs and over his hips, thumbs massaging circles into his lower back as Steve held himself still, getting used to the intrusion.

Part of him couldn’t believe that he’d waited until he was twenty four for this, but at the same time Steve knew that there was nobody in the world he wanted to experience this with besides Bucky. Steve dropped his head and looked at his boyfriend through hooded eyes. He’d be damned if Bucky wasn’t the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen, dark hair spread out over the white pillowcase, grey-blue eyes dark and huge with the soft lamplight, teeth white and biting sharply into his lower lip to stop him from making any noise. This was the hardest thing – keeping quiet – because Steve’s mother was sleeping just across the hall, and even though she had to be well aware by now that the boys were fucking, they didn’t really want to wake her up.

Steve was already starting to fall apart and he hadn’t even moved. Just like the first time they’d had sex, Steve and Bucky had spent a while getting each other worked up. They had stripped out of their clothes and climbed under the covers, pressing flush against each other and feeling skin against skin as they kissed and stroked, tracing the contours of each other’s bodies with their fingertips and then their mouths, their tongues. Bucky’s kisses had smothered Steve’s soft moans as the warm fingers of his right hand had steadily slipped over Steve’s hip and down over the rise of buttock to slide between his cheeks, fingers lightly brushing over and around the sensitive skin.

By the time Bucky had slicked up his fingers and breached him, Steve was shaking with need, pressing wet, messy, open mouthed kisses to Bucky’s face and neck and his hands twisted in Bucky’s hair. Everything about the intrusion to his body should have been uncomfortable, but Steve craved it and even as he automatically tensed, he pressed himself closer to Bucky, whining softly into the crook of his neck. Bucky was amazing at distraction, his mouth brushing over Steve’s, teeth softly nipping at Steve’s bottom lip, sucking it in between his own. His fingers moved slowly and confidently as he kissed a line down Steve’s jaw to the base of his throat and back again so that their mouths touched, licking his way inside and using his tongue against Steve’s at the same speed as his fingers until it wasn’t enough anymore and Steve had pushed Bucky onto his back and climbed on top of him.

Now he was straddling Bucky’s thighs, impaled on six and a half inches of gorgeously thick cock and trying not to black out with the sensory overload. He could feel his pulse hammering in his ears, his heart hitting his ribcage hard and his lungs fit to burst as he sucked in air. The first time had been unbelievable, but this was a different angle and it was deeper and sweeter and much too much but not enough at all. He slid his hands up the solid planes of Bucky’s chest as he moved experimentally, a slow rock forward and back, biting his lip as the sensation ripped a moan from deep within his chest. God, it was good.

It look a little while to get into a rhythm where Steve was no longer just moving back and forward, but inching up and down the length of Bucky’s dick, smoothly, slowly. Bucky was a sight to behold, his brow furrowed in concentration and body tense as he tried not to push up with his hips and into Steve, biting his lip as he stared up at Steve with a look akin to wonder. Nobody had ever looked at Steve Rogers that way, like he was amazing and beautiful, and damn it but Steve wanted to give Bucky everything.

He sucked in a breath as cool metal fingers brushed over his right nipple and warm flesh ones tweaked his left and Steve straightened, rolling his hips more as he covered Bucky’s hands with his own. Steve put on a show, his hips rocking forward and up, back arching as he slid his hand to his throat, up the side of his neck and into his hair, fingers closing around a handful of strands as he pulled back and pushed his hips down again. He lost himself in the steady pull, roll, push rhythm, smothering his own whimpers into the inside of his forearm as he continued to pull at his own hair, and his other hand sat square on Bucky’s chest, fingers fanned out to help him balance.

His eyelids dropped closed as Steve continued to move, taking Bucky in a little deeper, moving a little faster and smoother on every roll, his thighs and belly warm with the pooling heat and coiling tightness of pleasure. He felt the sound that left Bucky’s body and Steve’s eyes flew open again, fixing on Bucky’s.

“Shhh….” he managed.

Bucky bit his lip harder and dug his fingers into Steve’s narrow hips, his face desperate for a few seconds before shaking his head.

“I can’t…” Steve saw him say.

He sagged forward onto his elbows, wrapping his forearms around the top of Bucky’s head as he pressed their foreheads together. Bucky’s breath was hot and fast against Steve’s lips as their mouths brushed together and Steve groaned low and soft as Bucky’s hands dragged up his sides with a gentle pressure. Still he continued his undulating rhythm, rising and falling in swift circular motions on Bucky’s cock, swallowing his boyfriend’s moans with his kisses.

Steve knew that Bucky was getting louder by the minute and there wasn’t much that he could do to stop it. He also needed more – needed to be fucked harder and faster than he could manage to do himself from the position he was in. There was only one thing for it – shifting on his knees, Steve wound the fingers of one hand into Bucky’s hair while covering Bucky’s mouth with the other, and moved his head down to murmur in his ear.

“Fuck me, Bucky…”

Steve felt Bucky’s lips move underneath his palm, his chest rumble in a groan as the cool metal of Bucky’s left arm wrapped around Steve’s waist and the warmth of his right fingers cupped the back of Steve’s neck. The air was pushed completely from Steve’s lungs as Bucky planted both feet on the mattress and started to move beneath him, hips snapping up hard as Steve’s body was pulled down to meet them. His vision blurred and he bit back a cry, burying his face in the space between Bucky’s cheek and the pillow.

He couldn’t get his own mind around the reason why he loved the pleasure-pain spikes that punched through his body, making his fingers tingle and his toes go numb, but he knew he wanted it, that he needed it so badly. Nothing he’d ever experienced in his life compared to sex with Bucky, of feeling so completely overwhelmed by sensation, the sharp tug in his lower belly and the harsh slap of flesh on flesh, hot breath punched from lungs and sweat pooling in the crooks of elbows and behind knees. It was incredible and primal and passionate all at once, and god, Steve loved it.

Bucky’s moans vibrated against the palm of Steve’s hand and Steve was having his own problems trying to keep quiet. He could feel the sounds slipping from his mouth – moans and whimpers and gasps punctuated with whispers of ‘yes’, ‘harder’, and ‘don’t stop’ that he tried to smother in the soft darkness of Bucky’s hair. The sharp heat in his belly built quickly, spreading and pooling in the base of his spine and the insides of his thighs, coiling tighter than a wound spring until it snapped and flooded his body.

Steve’s entire world went white as his orgasm hit and he let out a wordless cry against Bucky’s jaw, coming untouched and spilling all over his boyfriend’s stomach. He was barely aware of his hand tightening over Bucky’s mouth as his body trembled and he gasped for breath, quickly becoming hyper sensitive as Bucky’s hips continued to snap up into him, fast and erratic until he came too, fingernails digging sharply into Steve’s back.

He didn’t remember removing his hand from Bucky’s mouth and burying it in his dark hair instead, only becoming aware of it when he felt Bucky’s lips graze at his jaw and his cheek, searching for Steve’s mouth. Their kiss was shaky and breathless, tentative and gentle as they held each other close, Bucky’s fingers trailing light, soft patterns across Steve’s back as they came down from their high. Steve was boneless as Bucky eventually shifted and rolled him off and onto his back, and he watched hazily as he boyfriend slipped from the bed and scooped up a pair of underwear from the floor to clean them both off, before slipping back under the covers and pulling Steve close.

Steve was exhausted, aching, and immensely satisfied as he curled up with his head on Bucky’s chest, arms thrown over his flat, toned stomach. He sighed happily, smiling to himself as Bucky pressed kisses into his hair. God, but Steve loved him. He didn’t understand what he’d done right to be gifted with this amazing, beautiful, unbelievably sweet man, but Steve would be damned if he was ever going to let him go. He’d never felt safer or more wanted than right now in Bucky’s arms.


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I lost my porn mojo. It has decided to pack it’s bags and take an extended holiday to Bali or somewhere nicely exotic. Because of this hiccup, the porn duties for this chapter were taken over by the lovely Mellyblue007 who did a bang up job. Her writing style is slightly different to mine - just so you know.

Steve had been at work since eight that morning but had barely got a damn thing done. It was mid-week and still he couldn’t think of anything else but what had happened on Saturday with Bucky. It was insane – twenty four years of not really feeling much of an attraction to anyone, only to feel like a switch had been flipped the moment he’d met James Buchanan Barnes and now it was like a floodgate had opened. It had been a whole month of firsts for Steve and now once was never going to be enough for any of it. The more he got, the more he thought about it, and the more he thought about it, the more he wanted. He was seriously too distracted half of the time to do any work at all.

This was why he was pretty glad that he’d scheduled off that afternoon. Steve had a small art exhibition opening on Friday – it was his first and he was both excited and nervous and slightly stressed out. It had been a sheer stroke of luck that his art work had even been picked up. Steve had spent most of his life observing on the fringes of society and that’s what his art reflected – the small things that went largely unnoticed by everyone else. A chance meeting with a small gallery owner had led to Steve showing her a little of what was in his sketch book, and then she’d requested to see more. Steve had spent a fair amount of time over the last few months getting his pieces ready to go on show, and his afternoon off was to be spent getting all the last things in order before the opening.

At least, he’d had every intention of doing this until Bucky texted him just before lunchtime.

**{ Bucky: Hey gorgeous, how is work? }**

The phone buzzed in his pocket and Steve slid it out, grinning as he read the message and hastily typed a reply.

**{ Steve: It’s terrible. I’m sitting here, surrounded by priceless art and all I want is to be around you x }**

**{ Bucky: Aww baby that’s so sweet xx I’m kinda missing you a lot today… }**

**{ Steve: Yeah? In what way? }**

Steve stole a glance around the room but nobody was looking up from their workstations. He adjusted his glasses and gnawed his bottom lip as he waited for Bucky’s reply.

**{ Bucky: LOL! What are you trying to get me to say? }**

**{ Steve: That you want me naked and in your bed right now. }**

**{ Bucky: Shit…what happened to my sweet lil virgin Stevie? Have I unleashed a sex monster? XD }**

Steve smothered his giggle with the palm of his hand as he typed his response.

**{ Steve: Can I help it if you’re so hot? }**

He looked around again just to check that his text message conversation was still going unnoticed, before glancing back down at the screen.

**{ Bucky: You’re the hot one. And for the record, I always want you naked and in my bed. I can’t get enough of you. }**

Steve’s belly gave a jolt, sharp and low, and his heart immediately started hammering.

**{ Steve: I can’t get enough of you either. Right now, all I want to do is get on my knees and suck you till you come down my throat. }**

It was brazen and damn but Steve would never have sent a text like that just a few months ago. Now though, the whole game had changed. Steve had changed.

**{ Bucky: Well, I’m free all afternoon. Whole apartment to myself etc ;-) }**

He bit his lip as he read and re-read Bucky’s text. Steve had an art exhibit opening on Friday night. He needed to check everything over before then. That was the reason that he’d scheduled the afternoon off.

However, the lure of an entire afternoon in an empty apartment, naked with Bucky, was too strong to pass up.

**{ Steve: What a coincidence. I’m free all afternoon too. }**

Steve checked the time – he only had fifteen minutes until he could clock out.

**{ Bucky: Want to come over? I promise I’ll make it worth your while x }**

**{ Steve: Do you really think you can keep me away? }**

**{ Bucky: Nope. But I might have to tie you to my bed so you can’t leave it ;-) }**

Steve wasn’t entirely sure why the thought of being tied to Bucky’s bed made him want to moan aloud right there in the Met archives, but it still made him ache with need.

**{ Steve: You promise? }**

**{ Bucky: Fuck…baby, you’re killin me here! }**

**{ Steve: In that case, I’m leaving work right now and coming over to put you out of your misery. }**

He still had a couple of minutes left of his shift, but by that point, Steve absolutely didn’t care. Phone still in hand, he grabbed his coat and started to walk quickly towards the exit, ignoring everyone else around him, and completely focussed on getting to his boyfriend as quickly as possible. The phone buzzed against his palm again and he looked down.

**{ Bucky: I can’t wait x }**

Steve grinned – neither could he.

~

Clothes littered the floor of the hallway of Bucky’s apartment – Steve’s coat, hat and scarf lay in a haphazard pile by the front door, one shoe lying on its side beside them and the other kicked away to the side about a meter away. Bucky’s t-shirt and Steve’s sweater lay tangled a few paces further in, then Bucky’s jeans with one leg turned completely inside out. The final item of discarded clothing lay by the wall on the opposite side to the two guys pressed up against Clint’s bedroom door, their noises echoing in the narrow hallway.

Bucky had Steve pinned up against the solid wood of the door, thin legs wrapped tightly around his back as Bucky used his left hand to support his weight and his right to support Steve’s as he sucked and nipped, almost aggressively over Steve’s jaw, neck and throat. Steve clung to him as Bucky’s body moved against his, pressing him up and back into the door with every undulation of Bucky’s hips, sharp fingernails digging wherever he could get a grip – Bucky’s shoulders, his arms, the back of his neck, his hair. Bucky was already half mad with lust, rock hard and straining against his underwear as he ground against Steve, the blond uttering curses and sharp gasps as Bucky sucked on his pulse point.

“Fuck…Bucky…yes…oh God…”

Bucky growled his appreciation into the curve of Steve’s neck – hearing him speak turned Bucky on a ridiculous amount, that voice so deep and wrecked and saying his name. Bucky never wanted him to stop talking.

“Christ, baby…you sound so fucking good,” he whispered against Steve’s skin.

He needed to touch Steve more, to get their underwear off and get his boyfriend on top of him, get his hands around Steve’s dick. With both hands currently occupied in supporting weight, Bucky couldn’t do any of those things up against the door, so, with a slight exertion of strength, he pushed up and away from it, wrapping both arms tightly around Steve’s back.

They toppled clumsily to the ground, Bucky’s back hitting the wood floor hard with Steve landing on top of him, skinny knees still gripping Bucky’s hips as though his life depended on it. Their underwear didn’t even make it all the way off, dragged down only to the tops of their thighs as they kissed fast and messy, hands palming at mutual hardness as they gasped and moaned and panted, the drag of dry palm on soft silky-smooth cock slightly painful but they were both too desperate for the touch to stop.

“Fuck yeah, Stevie…” Bucky gritted, his free hand buried completely in the softness of Steve’s hair while the other worked rapidly over his cock.

Neither of them bothered with finesse or technique, working with the sole purpose of getting off as quickly as possible. It didn’t take too long, especially not with Steve moaning hotly against his mouth and those long slender fingers gripping him tightly. Bucky barely had a few seconds to register the heat in his balls and the base of his spine grow stronger and hotter before it burst and flooded him, the feeling of fire in his veins as his orgasm hit and he came all over his own stomach. His own hand tightened around Steve’s dick and he felt it pulse, hot semen spilling through his fingers as Steve came with a shout, his fingertips digging hard into Bucky’s shoulders.

“Christ…” Bucky panted as Steve’s full weight hit his chest.

He wrapped his arms tightly around the small back, feeling the rapid rise and fall as Steve sucked air into his lungs for a couple of minutes before starting to laugh. Bucky raised an eyebrow as Steve lifted his head and grinned.

 _“Hi,”_ Steve signed.

“Hi!” Bucky replied, his face splitting into a wide grin too.

They both chuckled softly as Steve kissed him gently, light grazes of his lips against Bucky’s.

From the moment Bucky had opened the door to him, they had been engrossed in tearing each other’s clothes off, both so worked up before they’d even managed to lay hands on each other in anticipation of the promise the afternoon held. There had been no time for pleasantries.

Bucky pushed Steve’s hair back gently with his non-sticky hand and smiled as Steve shifted off him and to the side, freeing up his hands.

 _“This is a good way to spend a Wednesday afternoon,”_ signed Steve with a grin.

 _“Naked on my hallway floor?”_ asked Bucky.

Steve barked a laugh and shook his head.

_“Naked with you.”_

Bucky smirked.

 _“We didn’t even make it to the bed,”_ he signed.

 _“I’m sure we will at some point,”_ replied Steve, his blue eyes glinting mischievously.

Bucky bit his lip, his eyes roaming all over Steve’s flushed face. His blond hair was a mess from having Bucky’s fingers in it, his rose-pink blush blotched across his nose and cheeks and spread down to his chest which was still rising and falling rapidly.

_“If that’s what you want.”_

_“Are you joking?”_ Steve signed with a short laugh. _“That’s all I want – a whole afternoon in your bed, with you inside me, making me scream.”_

“Fuck!”

Bucky covered his face with his hands to hide the pinkness that was rising to his face. Despite having had sex with Steve twice and currently lying there with both their come all over his body, Bucky didn’t think he’d ever get used to Steve telling him stuff like that. He loved it, but it still made him blush like a damn virgin.

Steve laughed at him and pulled Bucky’s hands from his face.

 _“How did you get such a dirty mind?”_ Bucky asked.

 _“I watch porn,”_ replied Steve with a shrug.

Bucky burst out laughing.

_“How does that work without sound?”_

_“Well, the visuals are pretty damn good.”_

Bucky shook his head slowly and leaned over to kiss Steve again and run his nose gently up the side of his cheek, hands softly rubbing circles into the tops of his arms. Steve sighed happily against his lips, curling his body into Bucky’s and sliding his hands around his neck, pulling Bucky close again.

They did finally make it to the bed, half an hour later when their kissing began to get heated again. Up until this point, Bucky had pretty much relinquished control to Steve in the bedroom. Especially after finding out that Steve was a virgin, the last thing he wanted was to make Steve uncomfortable but it turned out that letting Steve set the pace was like unleashing a Formula One race car at the Nürburgring. It was fast, hard, and completely exhilarating. 

Steve nipped at Bucky’s lower lip before licking into his mouth, rolling his hips into Bucky rhythmically with the strokes of his tongue. He reached around and gripped Bucky’s ass and Bucky practically saw stars as his cock slid between their slick bodies. If they didn’t slow down soon, he knew he was going to come again and that was the last thing he wanted right now. God Steve looked so debauched, his blonde hair sticking up all over the place where he had gripped it, long lashes dark against his flushed cheeks. He was stuttering out breathless moans into Bucky’s open mouth between kisses, pulling away to arch his back with his head thrown back against the pillow when the the pleasure became overwhelming.

They were both heading for the edge but Bucky wanted more. He wanted to see what it felt like to seduce Steve and wanted him moaning with his pupils blown while Bucky rocked in and out of him, so fucking slow and deep that he begged for more. He wanted those gorgeous legs wrapped around his hips while he pinned Steve’s wrists to the pillow above his head. Bucky buried his face into Steve’s neck for a second and fought to clear his head.

Just then, Steve circled his hips and ran his fingertips up Bucky’s spine, making him shiver all over and look up into impossibly blue eyes that brought to mind sunshine and clear blue summer skies…far away oceans that Bucky had only ever seen photos of…love. God he loved this man.

He reached up and brushed a damp lock of hair off of Steve’s face.

_“What’s up, gorgeous?”_

Steve smiled back before leaning close to Bucky’s ear.

"I want you, Bucky. Wanna feel you in me," Steve whispered.

Bucky braced himself on his elbows above Steve and huffed out a breathless laugh. Briefly brushing the tips of their noses together, he dove in and captured Steve’s mouth. Long slender arms wrapped around his neck, urged him closer and Steve sucked at Bucky’s pouty lips, trying to increase the pace, but Bucky pulled back, taking one of Steve’s hands and then the other from around his neck and gently arranged them on the pillow above his head, crossed at the wrists. He pressed his metal hand down gently, holding Steve’s arms in place and watching him to gauge his reaction but Steve’s eyes were dark with lust and he was biting his lip to keep from whining aloud.

"Is this okay?"

Bucky spoke slow enough for Steve to read his lips and Steve nodded frantically. Bucky gripped his wrists a little bit tighter and gave him a wicked grin.

"Good because I want to fuck you just like this. I wanna watch your face as you come with my cock inside you." 

He could feel Steve’s fingers moving against his metal hand, automatically signing before he remembered that his hands were trapped in Bucky’s grip.

"Yes! Yes Bucky, PLEASE."

It was all Bucky needed to hear before he released Steve and helped him sit up on the rumpled bed. 

The sunlight was starting to fade outside the window and Steve’s fair skin looked almost golden as he sat in a shaft of dying light. Bucky reached out his hand and traced the line of a shadow across Steve’s collarbone up the side of his neck to his jaw before leaning in to travel back down the same path with his lips and tongue.

Steve slid his artist’s fingers into Bucky’s hair and tipped his head back to give Bucky better access to suck gentle kisses down the side of his neck and across his throat. Metal and flesh hands slid down Steve’s sides to his hips and Bucky leaned down to lap at the head of Steve’s cock, running his tongue around it before licking over the slit. He caught Steve’s hips when they jerked and he grinned up at him. 

"Mmm…you taste so good, baby. Can I taste you everywhere?" 

Steve’s grip on Bucky’s hair increased until it almost brought tears to his eyes and he stuttered out “God Bucky!” before releasing him and signing _“Anything you want. Anything.”_

Bucky rolled over on his back and stroked lazily himself a few times before pulling Steve on top of him to straddle his face. 

He lost track of time as he ate Steve out. All that mattered was his tongue against Steve - inside of him - and the moans and gasps of his boyfriend from where he was gripping the headboard above him. By the time he had 3 lubed fingers fucking in and out of the blond with his tongue on Steve’s perfect hole, the headboard was bumping against the wall as Steve thrashed above him, hanging on with a white-knuckled grip and begging. 

"Bucky! Bucky! Fuck…ahhh…GOD! Its fucking good. Want you…inside me NOW!"

Bucky pulled back and licked his swollen lips as he added the tip of his pinky to the fingers currently inside Steve and heard the broken pleading above cut off with a gasp. Fuck he didn’t know if he had ever been this hard in his life and he worked his fingers into Steve, hoping he wouldn’t come as soon as he rolled on the condom. He curled up to lick and bite the inside of the slender thighs on either side of his face and felt the muscles under his mouth quivering and shaking.

With a final twist of his wrist, Bucky withdrew his fingers and moved out from under Steve to kneel behind him and press against his back. Steve rocked back into him and turned his head blindly for a breathless open-mouthed kiss. Bucky closed his eyes and cursed against Steve’s lips when his dick slid against the cleft of Steve’s ass. 

He knew his control was slipping and Steve’s was long gone by the time he had arranged his boyfriend on his back and was kneeling between his knees. The little blond was practically panting and biting his lip so hard that Bucky was surprised that it wasn’t bleeding. Bucky tore open the wrapper with his teeth and rolled the condom on, slicking himself with lube quickly to avoid as much stimulation as possible. He leaned over Steve, and looked into his eyes as he pressed into him slowly, so slowly. Steve gripped the larger man’s biceps, and Bucky stopped to give him time to adjust when he felt those long, thin fingers tense up and then resumed when he felt Steve relax.

They both moaned when he bottomed, fully enveloped in Steve’s tight heat. He paused to run his hands up and down Steve’s arms before holding his wrists lightly and asking slowly “Is this okay?” Still looking deep in to Bucky’s eyes, Steve nodded slowly and Bucky raised his arms above his head and gripped his crossed wrists with his metal hand again. He began rolling his hips the tiniest bit and groaned when Steve raised his hips to meet his thrusts. It didn’t take long before he was moving fully in and out, withdrawing almost all of the way before gliding back in until his balls were hitting against Steve’s ass. He didn’t even realize that he was babbling as he moved.

"Stevie, Stevie, you feel so tight, so good. Mmm baby love it. Wanna make you come…ahh FUCK! Want you to come."

Steve strained against Bucky’s hold on his wrist, thrashing his head back and forth and meeting every thrust with one of his own. His cock was leaking a steady stream of pre-come onto his stomach. Bucky go of his wrists and Steve immediately wrapped his arms around Bucky’s back, pulling him down and trapping his dick between their bodies. He had tears on his lashes but he never dropped his gaze from Bucky’s as he gasped out his pleasure.

Later, when he wasn’t concentrating on fucking his boyfriend through the mattress, Bucky would think that there was nothing more erotically beautiful than Steve’s face when he came. Steve’s eyelids slammed shut, and he clenched around Bucky like a vice, digging his fingernails into his boyfriend’s back with a loud cry that shattered the last bit of control that Bucky had. He thrust once, twice, three more times before coming hard enough that his vision went dark.

When he came to, he was still propped up on his elbows above Steve, who looked like he was half-asleep with an grin on his face. Bucky nuzzled his boyfriend’s neck and withdrew from Steve, disposing of the used condom in the trash can beside the bed and cleaning them both up with a t-shirt from his bedroom floor. Steve didn’t open his eyes at all, even when Bucky flopped back down beside him and pulled him close. He just snuggled deeper into the bigger man’s embrace and pressed an exhausted kiss to the skin just above Bucky’s heart before relaxing completely. Bucky ran his fingers through Steve’s damp hair and kissed his forehead and temple, feeling the slow rise and fall of the thin chest against his own.

The sky was completely black now, the room lit only by the street lights below and Bucky dreaded the moment when Steve would have to get up and leave. He had been under so much pressure lately with Sarah’s declining health and the gallery opening and Bucky wished that he could shield him from it all. He held Steve just a little bit tighter in the dark room and no one heard him whisper “I love you” into Steve’s soft hair.

~

Steve felt Bucky shift underneath him to reach for his phone and he murmured sleepily against the soft skin of Bucky’s shoulder in protest. He didn’t want to wake up yet. Waking up meant he had to get dressed and go back out into the cold evening air and face reality again. The past weeks of preparing for his gallery opening and taking care of Sarah during her illness left him feeling so much more physically and emotionally exhausted than he had realized and it was such a relief to relax into Bucky’s warmth and strength for just a few hours — to relinquish control and trust him completely the way he never had with anyone else before.

The too-bright light of Bucky’s cellphone hit his eyes and he squinted and rolled over, pressing his back to Bucky’s side, feeling the rumble of his voice as he answered it. Steve was just starting to drift back to sleep only to jolt upright when Bucky began shaking him urgently before leaping out of bed. The room lights flashed on as Bucky ran out of the room with his phone pressed to his ear and Steve cringed at the sudden harsh light. Something was wrong and his heart pounded as he jumped out of bed and grabbed his underwear off of the floor. He was just fastening the few remaining buttons that hadn’t popped off his shirt in their mad scramble to get naked, when his boyfriend ran back into the room looking at him with wide, scared eyes and holding Steve’s phone out.

Steve’s mouth went dry with fear as he grabbed the phone and saw all of the missed calls and texts. Oh no, he thought. Oh fuck please no. 

**{ 7:17: Missed call from Nancy Wilson }**

**{ 7:23: Text from Sam Wilson: Steve, don’t panic but I need you to call me ASAP.}**

**{ 7:40: Missed call from Sam Wilson }**

**{ 7:41: Text from Sam Wilson: Dude please text me. Your mom isn’t doing well and my mom called the EMTs. }**

Steve’s hands were shaking so hard he could barely hold the phone.

**{ 8:12: Text from Sam Wilson: EMTs are here and they are taking her. Don’t freak out when you get this. It’s going to be okay. Where are you? I’m seriously worried. This isn’t like you. }**

**{ 8:36: Missed call from Sam Wilson }**

**{ 8:37: Missed call from Sam Wilson }**

**{ 8:50: Steve I’m calling Bucky and I hope he knows where your ass is. I am so pissed at you and my mama is about to have the cops out looking for you. }**

Steve looked at the time in a panic. It was 9:09. He should’ve been home over two hours ago. Oh god, he didn’t even know which hospital she had been taken to. 

Warm hands closed around his shoulders and Steve started to pull away before he realized that he couldn’t breathe and Bucky was thrusting his inhaler into his hands. He pressed the dispenser and sucked in as much of the medicine as he could manage while Bucky rubbed his back. His breath rushed back and his chest expanded painfully as he dropped the inhaler to sign frantically.

_“Bucky please call Sam! Please find out where Ma is! I don’t know what happened and I have to get to her...”_

Bucky shook his head and grabbed Steve’s trembling hands to still them. He spoke clearly and calmly.

"She is okay. She had trouble breathing but Sam said she is better now. Get your pants and shoes on and we will go right now. It’s okay." Bucky ran his hands up and down Steve’s thin arms. "You have to calm down baby."

Breathing as deeply as his lungs allowed, Steve nodded and reached for his pants.

The cab was warm but Steve couldn’t stop shivering. He had run out of the apartment, leaving his socks and jacket behind in his haste and it took a good five minutes to hail a cab due to the snowfall that was picking up speed. Bucky took one look at his ragged dress shirt and shaking limbs and he stripped off his jacket, draping it across Steve’s shoulders and then arranged his soft red scarf to hide the love bites on Steve’s collarbones and chest.

Outside the cab, snowflakes illuminated by headlights whirled and splattered against the windows and the slush crunched under the tires, making the car slide slightly around corners. Christmas lights gleamed merrily from every storefront window, filling the night with flashes of brilliant light but all Steve could think about was his mother struggling for breath by herself in an ambulance while he slept peacefully without a care in the world. He stared at his upturned palms where they rested on his lap, overwhelmed by guilt. Knowing that Bucky’s gaze was on him, Steve signed miserably.

_“This is my fault. I should have been there.”_

Gentle fingers touched his cheek to get his attention and Bucky just shook his head.

_“No, S-T-E-V-I-E. None of this is your fault. There is nothing you could do.”_

Steve felt his face twist in distress and faced Bucky. His boyfriend’s dark hair was unbound and sticking up in places from sleep and his eyes were dark and concerned. He was only wearing a thin white v-neck t-shirt, black jeans, and running shoes since he had given Steve his jacket and scarf. 

_“I could have been there for her. I could have held her hand in the ambulance and made sure that they didn’t try to give her an IV in her right arm because they can’t ever find a vein there and I could have been with her to count her breaths like she always did for me when I was little and had asthma attacks and I could…”_

He stopped to drag the heels of his palms harshly over the tear tracks on his cheeks and didn’t resist when Bucky pulled him in to a tight hug. The cab came to a stop in front of the emergency room entrance at the hospital and Steve jumped out while Bucky paid the fare and climbed out after him. Under the covered entryway, Bucky pulled him to a stop and cupped his cheeks briefly with chilly fingers.

 _“You are right,”_ he signed. _“You could have done all of that but falling asleep was an accident. You can be here for her now though, okay?”_

Steve would never understand how Bucky always seemed to know what to say but he felt calmer when they joined hands and walked through the automatic doors.

He only felt better until they ran around the corner into the ER waiting room and were met by an incredibly irate Sam Wilson. He stalked over from where he had been standing by the triage nurse’s station and stopped directly in front of them. His lip curled a bit as he took in the dishevelled state of Bucky’s hair and Steve’s ruined shirt.

 _“Nice of you to join us, Steve,”_ Sam signed. _“Too bad your evening got ruined but it looks like you managed to enjoy yourself anyway.”_

Guilt stained Steve’s cheeks and ears a bright red but before he could respond, Bucky stepped in the space between him and Sam. He couldn’t see what Bucky said but Sam said out loud,

“Well he should be! We were worried sick!”

Judging by the way the security guard stood and watched them, Bucky and Sam were making a scene and the last thing Steve wanted was to be responsible for a brawl in the hospital waiting room. Fed up and overwhelmed, he stepped between the two bigger men who were both bristling at each other and pushed Sam back a step.

 _“You are right. I was with Bucky and we fell asleep. It was a mistake but that doesn’t change the fact that I should have been there or I should have answered my phone. I was wrong but I am not going to stand out here and fight with you when my mother needs me.”_ He shot a brief look at Bucky, who was still glaring at Sam with his arms crossed in front of him, before continuing. _“Thank you for taking care of her when I wasn’t there to do it, Sam. You are a better friend than I deserve right now. I’m sorry.”_

Sam’s face gentled and he relaxed his stance as he rolled his eyes with a smile.

_“Does anyone ever manage to stay angry at you? Look, I’m sorry too. I know you wouldn’t ever have done that on purpose, which is why I was so worried. You don’t have to thank me, Steve. This is what family does for each other, okay?”_

Sam paused to reach down and bump his forehead affectionately against Steve’s, and Steve nodded slowly. He’d never had many fights with Sam in his whole life and it made him sick to his stomach to be at loggerheads with his best friend now. Steve passed a shaky hand over his hair and sighed as Nancy Wilson came bustling out of the doors and ushered him through.

Steve cast a glance back over his shoulder at his boyfriend and best friend, both standing side-by-side and smiling at him encouragingly. He only hoped that the two of them would make up while Steve was away.

~

Bucky stared at the doors of the emergency room and sighed heavily, running both hands through his unbound hair. He was pretty sure he was shaking, but he wasn’t sure if was from the adrenaline or from being so scared for Steve and Sarah Rogers. All he really knew was that his boyfriend had been a trembling mess from the second Bucky had passed over his phone and Steve had read all of his missed messages.

“You shouldn’t have gone off at him,” he said quietly, his comment directed towards Sam who was still standing next to him.

“I apologised to him for that,” Sam replied just as softly.

“I know,” Bucky turned his head to look at Sam, frowning. “But he was already feeling like the worst person on the planet. The last thing he needed was for you to have a go at him too.”

Sam looked at his feet and nodded.

“I know. I’m sorry. I’m not used to this – to him going AWOL…”

“That was my fault,” interrupted Bucky. “I asked him to come over this afternoon. We never meant to lose track of time, I swear.”

Sam’s brow furrowed and he backed up a few steps to sit heavily on the orange plastic waiting room chairs. He sighed.

“I didn’t mean it like that,” Sam said. “Steve’s always been a little reckless, but he’s never been irresponsible. If we can’t get in touch with him, we always presume the worst has happened and he’s been knifed or shot or beat up and left in some alley. I’m not used to him having somebody else to go to…”

Bucky stared at him for a second before lowering himself down into the chair next to Sam and resting his elbows on his knees.

“Is that why it took you an hour and a half before you remembered to call me?”

Sam grinned ruefully at him.

“Yeah…I guess that one’s on me.” He sat back in the chair and linked his fingers behind his head, looking steadily at Bucky. “You know, I always thought that when Steve finally found somebody that it would be a little nerdy Deaf girl. I never expected him to go for…”

“The complete opposite of that?” Bucky finished, a smile playing about his lips.

“Well, I’m not saying you’re not nerdy or anything, but yeah.”

Bucky laughed despite himself and sat back, his shoulder bumping gently against Sam’s. Now that he thought about it, he could see how people would think of Steve and Bucky being an odd match – Bucky being tall and well-built, long dark hair and leather jackets, whereas Steve was tiny and skinny, pale and blond and an accidental hipster. He guessed it was true that opposites attract.

Sam looked back up at Bucky and raised his eyebrows.

“Are we cool?”

Bucky took a deep breath and rolled his shoulders, nodding.

“Yeah we are. I would hate to ruin a beautiful relationship built on being dragged through miles of snow in the country and dating each other’s best friends.”

Sam chuckled gently.

“And I am sorry I went off at him before. I love that kid like my own brother and he scared me half to death, y’know?”

“Yeah,” Bucky replied softly. “I love him too.” 

Sam looked at him sharply as Bucky stared determinedly at his feet. Luckily for him, he didn’t have to say any more on the subject, as Nancy Wilson appeared from behind the emergency room doors and strode purposefully towards them both before stopping short of Sam and clipping him hard around the ear.

“OW! MAMA, WHAT THE HELL?”

Bucky snickered at Sam’s indignant yell as Nancy stood over her son, arms folded across her chest and a face like thunder.

“Steve said that you were mean to him. That boy has enough to cope with without you having a go at him, Samuel Wilson.”

Sam sighed heavily.

“I know, mama. I said I was sorry, and Bucky’s given me a dressing down too. I have been suitable chastised.”

Nancy Wilson’s keen brown eyes slid from Sam’s face and fixed on Bucky, studying his face until Bucky began to feel slightly uncomfortable under her scrutiny.

“Well, good,” she said eventually. “I’m glad that Steven has somebody fighting in his corner.”

Her face relaxed and she smiled at Bucky, stepping forward and leaning down to wrap her arms around his shoulders, giving him one of those tight hugs that only mothers do. Bucky immediately felt an ache in his heart – it had been ten years since he’d last had one of these.

“I’m an older brother, ma’am,” Bucky said as Nancy finally let him go. “I don’t think I can help being protective.”

She smiled at him and sighed.

“You do know that this is all going to get an awful lot worse from here on out, right?” Nancy said. “Sarah is fading fast and Steve is going to find that hard to cope with. If you plan on sticking around, then you need to know you can deal with that.”

Bucky glanced at Sam who was looking at him expectantly with one eyebrow raised. Slowly, Bucky turned back to Nancy and nodded.

“I lost both parents when I was fourteen ma’am, and I had a little sister to take care of. I understand how this works.”

Nancy Wilson smiled at him.

“Okay. Well, she’s being discharged, so as soon as all the paperwork is done, we can all go.”

Bucky nodded again and shifted on the uncomfortable orange plastic chair. As they waited for Sarah Rogers to be discharged, Bucky couldn’t help wondering if Steve actually knew how sick his mother really was. They way Steve talked, it was like he was expecting Sarah to make a recovery, but everyone else was acting like she was dying. Bucky didn’t know enough to form a good-enough opinion, but his gut was telling him that Sarah wasn’t going to recover from this. He just hoped that Steve’s optimism over her condition was just to keep his spirits up, otherwise this could be a lot more heartbreaking than he’d initially thought.

~

The room was too bright, the fluorescent lights overhead casting a sickly pallor to Sarah Rogers’ already pale skin. The oxygen mask was sitting over her chin and throat as she lay with her eyes lightly closed, the machines around her flashing sporadically as they monitored her vital statistics. Steve’s stomach plummeted – he’d never seen her like this before. For the first time since her diagnosis, Sarah Rogers looked like she could actually be dying.

Steve clutched Bucky’s jacket closer around his body as he took a few tentative steps towards his mother, seeing her eyes flutter open. She gave him a tired smile.

 _“Hi, baby,”_ she signed weakly.

Steve felt himself surge forward towards her and he gripped her hand tightly, pressing a shaking kiss to the back.

“Ma…I’m sorry…”

Sarah shook her head slowly and slipped her hand from his.

 _“Don’t be sorry,”_ she told him, her signing slightly more hesitant than usual. _“I told Nancy and Sam not to worry you…”_

 _“I should have been home for you,”_ Steve continued, ignoring her attempt to lessen the guilt he felt. _“I wasn’t thinking about anyone but myself, and you were suffering while I was out…”_

Sarah reached out and placed a hand over Steve’s, halting their movements. She smiled at him and brushed his hair back from his face tenderly.

“I had people taking care of me,” she said aloud, slowly and clearly. “I wasn’t alone. You are allowed to be selfish once in a while.”

Steve looked at his feet. He’d had the most unbelievable afternoon in bed with the most beautiful person in the whole world and had fallen asleep feeling safe and comfortable and loved with Bucky’s arms around him. Steve had believed his life had reached perfection in those short few hours and now it was crumbling around him once again. His mother was Catholic, but Steve had never prayed since Sunday school as a kid. He wondered now if that was the reason why God was punishing him – give him the most amazing happiness, only to take it away again almost immediately. Steve was starting to think that you were only allowed to have one angel in your life at a time.

He noticed his mother start to shake and he looked up swiftly in concern, only to realise that she was laughing. Sarah plucked at his ruined shirt.

 _“I’m afraid I have some bad news,”_ she signed, face serious.

His heart leapt into his throat as he looked at her, watching her as she took a deep breath and looked him in the eyes.

_“I don’t think that shirt is going to live.”_

Sarah Rogers managed to maintain her serious demeanour for all of three seconds before she burst into laughter. To see his mother laugh had always been like watching sunshine come out from behind a cloud and immediately his unease was settled – she couldn’t be so ill if she was still teasing him.

Steve felt the tips of his ears grow hot, and he ducked his head to hide the blush that spread across his face. He hadn’t looked at his reflection at all since he woke up, but judging how Bucky looked – hair all knotted and messy from having Steve’s fingers in it for the past few hours – Steve knew he had to look worse, with the marks that had been sucked into his neck and his shirt with only a few buttons remaining.

 _“I got attacked by a bear on the way here,”_ he signed back, not meeting her eye but knowing that it caused her to laugh even more.

_“A Bucky bear?”_

“Ma!”

He was exceptionally lucky that his mother didn’t just not care that Steve was having a hell of a lot of sex with his boyfriend, but that she was actively encouraging it. Steve still hadn’t decided if that was brilliant or mortifying. Possibly both in equal measures. He flushed a furious pink and drew Bucky’s jacket tighter around his body.

It took a further hour before Sarah Rogers was discharged and they were reminded of her appointment that Saturday where she would be getting the results from her latest bout of treatment. Bucky was still sitting in the waiting room with Sam when he and Sarah finally walked back out of the emergency room, and he sank gratefully into his boyfriend’s arms as Sam and Nancy pushed Sarah’s wheelchair to the car.

 _“Are you okay?”_ Bucky signed, looking at him in concern.

 _“Yes,”_ replied Steve with a smile, standing on tiptoe to kiss Bucky gently on the underside of his jaw. _“I never said thank you for bringing me here and for staying.”_

Bucky smiled at him, brushing the smooth, metal knuckles of his left hand across Steve’s cheek.

_“Any time. Come on, let’s get you both home.”_

Steve nodded and leaned into Bucky’s solid side as they followed the others out to the car. He was exhausted and aching all over now that the adrenaline was starting to leave his system and he had the relief that his mother was okay. All Steve wanted to do now was curl up into bed again, drag his boyfriend in with him, and sleep for about a week. Or at the very least, until morning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To make you aware, prepare for Sarah-related feels very soon.


	16. Chapter 16

Bucky had spent the last half hour in front of the mirror, trying on almost every item of clothing he owned and still ending up unsatisfied with the result. Clint was leaning against the door frame of Bucky’s bedroom, arms folded over his chest and shaking his head with amusement.

“Seriously, you’re going to end up going naked at this rate. Just put something on Barnes – it can’t be too much of a classy do, can it?”

Bucky sighed and stripped a black t-shirt off, dropping it on the floor before turning back to Clint.

“No, but it is Steve’s first real art exhibit. It’s important to him and I don’t want to turn up looking like complete trash. I know it’s not black tie or anything, but I want to look somewhat respectable.”

Clint snorted.

“Dude, I don’t really make a habit of saying shit like this to other guys, but you’re the kind of person who could rock up at an event wearing a potato sack and people would still be falling at your feet.”

Bucky shot his roommate a withering look.

“Don’t be an ass, Barton.”

“I’m serious!” Clint insisted. “You’re one of those sickening people who look good in everything. You’ve just got a complex because of the arm thing – you think people can’t see past that, but you’re wrong. I’ve seen you walk into a club, man. You turn heads in ripped jeans.”

Bucky raised an eyebrow.

“Y’know Barton, I really wish you hadn’t waited until I had a boyfriend before you started flirting with me, because this could make things a little awkward…”

“Oh, shut the fuck up,” Clint replied, scooping a pair of pants up from the floor and hurling them at Bucky, who laughed at him.

As terrible as it was, Bucky really loved yanking Clint’s chain – he’d been teasing his roommate for years now and he wasn’t going to stop any time soon. It was too much fun.

He straightened out the bundle of clothing, discovering it to be his newest and least washed-out pair of black jeans, just as somebody knocked on the door.

“That’ll be Natasha,” he said to Clint.

“About fucking time,” muttered Barton, pushing himself up off the door frame and moving down the hall to answer the door.

Natasha looked beautiful as usual, wearing a simple black dress and her red hair swept up and off her neck. She smirked as she appeared in the doorway of Bucky’s bedroom, a shopping bag hanging from her index finger.

“Well, it looks like I got here just in time,” she drawled. “Here, put this on.”

Bucky caught the bag as she tossed it to him and brought out a navy button-down. It looked expensive – a thick, rich, soft cotton, and gently tailored.

“Nat…”

“Shut up, James,” she said softly. “Wear that, your black jeans, and that soft black suede jacket that you have and you’ll look hot as fuck.”

He grinned.

“I know it’s an art gallery we’re going to, but I don’t think I’m meant to be the main exhibit.”

“Well, you should be,” Natasha replied with a grin. “Now get your ass dressed or you’re going to be late for your boyfriend’s big event.”

Bucky smiled at her and nodded as she left him to get his clothes on. Turning back to the mirror, he briefly studied his reflection, eyes sweeping over the scarred skin on his shoulder where metal met flesh. Clint had been right – Bucky had a lot of hang-ups about his arm. For years he’d been horribly self-conscious about the stump he’d been left with after amputation, aware of people staring at the immobile, ‘natural’ prosthetic he’d had to live with. He’d only ever let a handful of people see him without it – his adoptive family, Rebecca, Natasha, Clint, and the few he’d ever trusted enough to sleep with. He thought it would all go away with his new prosthetic, but he’d been wrong. He had a margin of sensation and a lot more dexterity, but it was heavy and the scarring…Bucky had never let anyone but the doctors and scientists see that. That was until he’d met Steve, who’d kissed his scars tenderly and spent most of his time curled against Bucky’s chest, running his fingers along the sensitive skin at the join of the prosthetic.

It had been a pretty short space of time and a lot had happened. As he fastened the shirt up and pulled on his jeans, Bucky realised that his feelings for Steve had gone past attraction and admiration. Bucky loved him, he trusted him and Steve returned that trust completely. He knew that it was going to be rough for his boyfriend from here on out – Nancy Wilson had told him as much – but Bucky knew that he’d be there for Steve, in whatever way he was needed.

Right now, however, he was needed at the art exhibit, and he was running late.

~

Similarly, Steve also had spent a great deal of time getting ready for his art exhibition, though not just for his boyfriend’s benefit. Whereas Bucky only had Steve to impress, Steve had to look presentable to a whole room of people, all of which would be scrutinising not just his work, but his appearance too. He had the collar of his shirt buttoned right up in order to hide the fading purplish marks that Bucky had sucked onto his neck just two days ago. In hindsight, Steve probably should have stopped Bucky from doing that at the time but it had felt so good and looking professional for Friday night hadn’t been top of his priority list at that particular moment.

As for his art work, he’d chosen his pieces carefully, poured many hours of love and attention to detail in each one, making sure they were all perfectly presented. Steve didn’t dare underestimate how important this was – artists were a dime a dozen in New York City and they were all exceptionally good. He had to do something that stood out.

So there he was, biting his lower lip nervously as he stood with Sam on his left and his agent on the right as his potential buyers walked through the doors. His stomach was in knots and he felt sick, and although Sam was a great comfort at his side, Steve wished to god that he had Bucky there too, holding his hand, large and warm and reassuring. He felt a touch on his arm and glanced up at his friend.

 _“You okay?”_ Sam signed, smiling.

 _“I feel like I’m going to throw up,”_ Steve admitted and Sam laughed.

 _“It will be fine,”_ he told Steve, clapping his shoulder gently. _“They’ll all love it.”_

Steve swiped a flute of champagne from a passing member of the hired catering staff and almost downed the whole glass in one go. He hoped Sam was right – it was important that people liked his work enough to buy it, but he also hoped that Bucky would like it. So far, Steve hadn’t shown any of his art to his boyfriend so this would be the first time Bucky would get to see his skills. Steve only hoped it didn’t disappoint.

He was nervous, definitely, yet lying just underneath that was disappointment and sadness that his mother hadn’t been able to make it. After ending up in the hospital with breathing difficulties a couple of nights earlier, she had elected to stay home with Nancy Wilson. Steve couldn’t help but hate the whole situation – his mother had always been Steve’s biggest supporter and she should have been there to see what she had done for him. Without her, Steve was pretty certain that his art would never made it so far as one of New York’s better independent galleries.

Half an hour later, as the place was filling up more rapidly, Steve’s heart leapt in his chest as he spotted the now-very familiar face of Bucky Barnes, hair neatly tied back and looking damn gorgeous as always. Bucky’s eyes lit up as soon as they fell on Steve’s face, and all the knots that had been tying up Steve’s stomach melted instantly when Bucky smiled.

 _“Hi,”_ Bucky signed as he strode across the floor to him, Natasha looking stunning at his side.

 _“Hi,”_ responded Steve.

He was well aware of Sam watching closely as Bucky leaned in to kiss Steve’s cheek, the metal fingers of his left hand gently squeezing the top of his shoulder. Steve and Sam hadn’t talked any further about what had happened on Wednesday night, but Steve was sure that it was pretty evident what had transpired between Bucky and himself that day. He was sure that the whole world knew that they were sleeping together now.

Taking a deep breath, Steve smiled and nodded at Nat, who smiled and nodded back before Steve turned back to Bucky.

 _“This is more terrifying than I thought it would be,”_ he signed.

Bucky grinned at him.

 _“Well, I’m looking forward to seeing your work,”_ Bucky replied.

Steve ducked his head slightly, feeling the tips of his ears grow hot. There was something he’d included in his collection that was deeply personal and just for his boyfriend. He hoped that Bucky would see it, and hoped even more that he’d like it.

~

“He’s good,” Natasha mused, looking at one of the graphite drawings hanging on the far wall.

“He’s amazing,” Bucky murmured in reply.

His eyes swept over the wall, drinking in all the intricate details of the drawings. They were all so thoroughly Steve – the minutiae of New York, things that go unnoticed by most except for the small, Deaf guy who seemed to pay attention to everything. The drawings were of people, of places, of things that Bucky had seen a million times before, but never like this, never in such detail or from this perspective. It was like he’d been living in an alternate version of New York for his whole life and was only now seeing the real city.

This was what it must be like to be Steve Rogers. Bucky found that he loved that guy even more.

“Did you know he’s colour blind?” Natasha asked, interrupting Bucky’s musings.

He turned to look at her, noticing that she was scrutinising the little pamphlet that she’d picked up at the door. On the back was a small section about the artist. Bucky frowned.

“No, I didn’t,” he murmured, eyes turning back to the black and white graphite drawings. “But I guess that explains a lot.

“He probably should have mentioned something like that,” Nat mused.

Bucky shrugged. The fact that Steve was colour blind and hadn’t mentioned it didn’t concern Bucky in the slightest. His boyfriend was Deaf, asthmatic, and had a heart condition – not being able to see a whole colour spectrum wasn’t that big a deal compared to the rest of it. Steve already had a lot to deal with and Bucky had a lot to understand about him, a lot to learn. It didn’t make him love Steve any less or any differently.

He didn’t notice as Natasha wandered away, as he was engrossed in taking in the detail of one of the larger pieces of art work on the wall. It was a couple of minutes before he heard her calling to him.

“James?”

Bucky glanced up and looked over to find Nat leaning over and studying something small on the wall. Frowning, he walked over to stand next to her, his eyes falling to the drawing that she was looking at. His jaw dropped.

“Oh my god…that’s…”

The framed drawing was no bigger than A4 and had probably been done on one of Steve’s sketch pads. It was the only piece in the room that was labelled as ‘not for sale’ and immediately Bucky understood why – this drawing was meant for him. It was Bucky’s prosthetic, drawn in graphite but with such attention to detail that it almost looked real, like a black and white photograph instead of a drawing.

Bucky’s eyes roamed over the overlapping metal plates drawn with precision, but it was the way it was shaded that took his breath away most, the way the metal seemed to gleam and shine in the light…but the light wasn’t even real. He wondered how long it had taken Steve to draw it, how many hours he’d sat and studied the metal prosthetic without Bucky even noticing.

Slowly, he straightened up and turned his head in the direction of where Steve was standing – his boyfriend was watching him, gnawing nervously on his thumbnail as he waited for Bucky’s reaction.

 _“It’s beautiful,”_ Bucky signed, smiling warmly.

He watched relief flood Steve’s face as he sighed with relief, his shoulders immediately relaxing.

 _“You’re beautiful,”_ signed Steve in return.

 _“Shut up,”_ replied Bucky with a wide grin.

“Y’know,” Natasha interrupted from just behind Bucky’s left shoulder. “I’m going to have to get Sam to teach me some sign language so that I don’t feel so left out.”

She was smirking when Bucky turned to look at her.

“But then I won’t be able to dirty talk my fella around you anymore!”

“Good,” Nat laughed. “The thought that you might be doing that is more than a little disturbing.”

Bucky laughed and threw and arm around her shoulder.

“Aw, Nat. You know me better than that.”

“Yeah,” she replied. “Obviously not well enough, judging by those hickeys that your boyfriend is trying to hide with his shirt buttoned all the way up!”

Bucky felt the heat rise to his face.

“Uh…we may have got a little carried away the other day…” he mumbled.

Natasha burst out laughing, sudden and loud and it echoed off the walls and caused people to turn and stare.

“Good for you. It’s about time you engaged in some wild, bed-breaking, mark-leaving sex, James Barnes.”

“Why am I friends with you again?” he muttered darkly, turning his flushed pink face away from her.

“Because,” Nat replied cheerfully, “I’m awesome.”

~

It was pretty late by the time Steve got home. It had been a successful night – his agent had told him that a lot of his work had attracted buyers and that he stood to make a bit of money from it all. His mood was high by the time he walked through his front door with Sam trailing behind him.

Steve had said goodnight to Bucky at the gallery. It wasn’t that he didn’t want his boyfriend to come home with him – on the contrary, Steve would really have loved to fall asleep with Bucky’s warmth at his back and those strong arms around him – but he had to be up to get his mother back to the hospital in the morning. The thought put his stomach in knots again, because this wasn’t just one of her regular appointments – tomorrow they’d be getting the results of her treatment to see if it had worked. Steve really hoped it had.

Nancy Wilson gave him a brief run-down of how the evening had gone, and his mother was apparently in good spirits, but had retired to bed early. As soon as Sam and Nancy left, Steve knocked gently on his mother’s bedroom door and stuck his head around it.

She was propped up against her pillows, colourful scarf still wrapped around her bald head but looking frailer than she had just a few days ago. Steve’s gut wrenched but he plastered a smile on his face as his mother’s eyes fluttered open and fixed on him.

 _“Hi baby. How did it go?”_ Sarah Rogers signed weakly.

Steve stepped into the room and took a few steps, sitting down gently on the edge of the bed.

 _“It was good,”_ he replied. _“I think I sold a few.”_

_“Good.”_

_“How are you feeling?”_

His mother’s face twisted a little as she shifted against the pillows and adjusted the little nubs that supplied her with oxygen through her nostrils.

 _“Tired,”_ she signed, her fingers barely managing to form the word properly.

Steve nodded slowly.

 _“I will let you sleep,”_ he replied before leaning over and pressing a soft kiss to her forehead.

Sarah nodded as he stood up and straightened out her blankets, giving her oxygen tank and quick check over before walking to the door. Her eyes followed him and she smiled as he stopped and turned.

 _“I love you,”_ he signed.

“I love you too, angel,” she replied, her lips moving slowly as she spoke this time, rather than signed.

Steve gently closed the bedroom door behind him before leaning heavily on it, his head falling back gently against the wood. He hadn’t prayed since he was a small child at Sunday school, but now he offered up a small prayer that his mother’s results the next day would be good, and hoped that God was listening.


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As warned, this is the place where it starts to get sad and angsty.
> 
> I suppose it's apt really, as this morning my husband and I were notified that a relative lost their battle with cancer.

Bucky stared at the blank text message screen on his phone, the cursor blinking at him as he tried to make up his mind what to do. It was still pretty early and Sarah Rogers had her hospital appointment this morning – Bucky wasn’t entirely sure if he should send Steve a text message wishing for good luck or not. He didn’t want to tempt fate. In the end, he slipped his phone back into his pocket and scrolled through Netflix for something to watch while he waited for news, Lucky curled up on the couch next to him.

Clint arrived home an hour or so later, performing a double-take when he saw Bucky sitting on the couch with the dog.

“My God,” Bucky’s roommate said, feigning shock. “You mean you still actually live here?”

“Hilarious.”

Clint grinned and flopped down on the couch next to him, kicking off his shoes.

“No, seriously, I thought you would have spent the night at Steve’s since you two are, like, doing that now.”

Bucky raised an eyebrow. He considered making a quip, but decided against it and opted for the truth instead.

“His ma is at the hospital today,” he explained. “She’s getting the results from her cancer treatment and they had to be up early, so I came home last night.”

“Ah…” Clint replied quietly.

“Yeah…”

They sat in silence for a few minutes, the TV still playing in the background, Lucky snoring softly on the couch between them.

“I don’t…” Bucky began, looking down at his hands, “I don’t know what to do.”

“About what?” asked Clint, glancing at him.

Bucky sighed and looked up.

“If it’s bad news,” he confessed. “I’ve been thinking about it all night, and I don’t know what I’ll do if it’s bad news. Steve’s going to be so cut up and…I don’t know what I’m going to do.”

Clint stared at him for a long moment.

“What did you do when your parents died?” Clint asked. “How did you deal with your sister?”

“She didn’t stop crying for five hours,” Bucky replied. “Rebecca burst into tears the moment the cops told us and she hung on to me. She didn’t let go till morning.”

Clint nodded.

“See? You do know what to do.”

Bucky sighed heavily. His roommate was right – he did know what to do…for a nine year old girl. Steve was twenty four years old, he was an adult, not a child like Rebecca had been and if Bucky knew anything about Steve, he knew that his boyfriend would more than likely be angry than anything else. He didn’t expect Steve to curl up into his lap and weep – he expected Steve to want to hit something, to smash plates and scream at the injustice of it all. Sarah Rogers was the damn closest thing to a living angel that Bucky had ever known, and he was pretty furious himself at the thought of her being taken away by that awful disease.

It was no good jumping to conclusions though. Bucky didn’t really know enough – only that Sarah had been suffering from this for two years, had just gone through her most intensive bout of therapy, and had already deteriorated in the short time that Bucky had known her. He just hoped for Steve’s sake that she’d be okay.

~

Numb. Steve had never felt so numb in his entire life.

He stared out of the cab window without seeing the gray clouds that were threatening Manhattan with more snowfall or the crowds of well-bundled people who were bustling up and down the sidewalks and wished he could just run away. Maybe if he ran far enough, he could take this nightmare away with him. Maybe he could find somewhere safe to scream and scream until his voice gave up and ran away too. The only thing tethering him to reality was his mother’s frail hand clasped in his own.

Not so long ago she had such strong capable hands with lovely graceful fingers. He looked down remembering tickles that left him shrieking with laughter, comforting caresses that wiped away tears, and loving touches to his face and hair before staring back out of the window blankly. Hands that healed. Hands that loved. There was nothing left for him to do. It wasn’t supposed to be this way.

Earlier that day, Sarah had been almost unnaturally calm before her appointment, smiling quietly as she leaned against Steve for support when he practically picked her up to help her out of the cab and into her new wheelchair that the helpful young cabbie had unfolded on the sidewalk in front of the hospital entrance.

 _“My son…so strong. It seems like just yesterday that I was dancing around the apartment with you in my arms, singing ‘You Are My Sunshine’, and now you are the one carrying me,”_ she signed as he pushed her chair into the elevator and pressed the button for the third floor.

Steve’s heart ached but he pretended to laugh for her benefit.

_“I can’t imagine that singing to me was very effective since I didn’t know what you were saying.”_

Her smile turned wistful.

_“You might not have known back then, but I did.”_

Steve was glad when the elevator glided to a smooth stop and the doors opened in front of the oncologist’s office. After he checked her in with the front desk receptionist, he walked back and arranged her blanket more securely. She got cold so easily these days and the waiting room was cool even though there were six other people sitting in the hard plastic and metal chairs arranged in groups of two and three around the small room. Steve pretended not to notice how the ache in his chest grew when none of the other patients would meet his eyes.

Sarah reached out and patted his hand to get his attention.

 _“It’s going to be okay. You are going to be fine, sweetheart,”_ she signed.

Steve wanted to cry. Instead, he ran his hands over his face and smiled at her.

_“I’m okay, Ma. Don’t worry about me. I’m just a little worried about the next course of treatment since the last one took so much out of you.”_

Sarah pressed her pale lips together and gave her head a little shake.

_“Steve, I don’t think you understand…” ___

__She didn’t get to finish before the nurse appeared with Sarah’s thick chart. When he saw the woman in scrubs patterned with cats and kittens beckoning to them, Steve jumped out of his seat and wheeled Sarah after her down the hall and into a part of the building he had not seen before. His heart rate increased when she opened the door to what looked like a comfortable little parlor, instead of one of the usual exam rooms._ _

__Steve wiped his sweating palms on his jeans and paced around the room while Sarah closed her eyes and concentrated on breathing. Every so often, he stopped and checked the levels on her oxygen tank or adjusted her blankets before resuming the path his agitated footsteps left in the newly-vacuumed carpet. The door opened and adrenaline pumped through his body quickly enough to make him feel weak at the knees. He sank into the plush armchair next to his mother and bounced his knee frantically as the doctor sat across from them._ _

__He doctor looked at Sarah and nodded slowly before beginning to speak. She automatically signed steadily as he spoke, translating his words into ASL for Steve._ _

__“Sarah, we saw a very slight reduction in several of the tumours in your left lung with the x-rays after your initial treatment. I know we discussed what to expect last week and, as we feared, the latest scans confirm that the cancer has spread aggressively. There are now multiple tumours in both lungs, two spots on the fifth and sixth ribs on your right side and a spot on the sixth rib on your left side. At this point, I can offer you targeted radiation to help with the pain that this can cause and to prevent any fractures.”_ _

__The doctor spread his hands and Steve saw his jaw clench before he continued._ _

__“Unfortunately, that would only be a palliative course of action. Sarah, I’m so sorry. There is nothing else we can do.”_ _

__The adrenaline flooding through Steve’s body disappeared as quickly as it came, leaving him empty and drained. The doctor was saying something and handing him paperwork and pamphlets. Sarah was still signing serenely, translating for him, making the world a more accessible place just the way she had since he could remember. And now he held these pieces of paper that seemed to weigh a thousand pounds in his own shaking hands. Pamphlets and referrals for hospice care? Oh god. Oh god please no. Hospice was for people who were dying and his mother couldn’t die._ _

__Shocked blue eyes stared at the growing stack. Here was information on different pain and nausea medications and prescriptions for two months of each and here was information on a DNR and the state-sponsored form that both Sarah and her doctor had already filled out at a previous appointment. How long ago had she even done that? Through her entire battle, Steve had held onto the childish belief that they would make it through this together. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he wondered how he was sitting so calmly, nodding at everything the man was saying when his heart had just been shattered into a million pieces._ _

__At last, a copy of her medical records was added to the pile. He blindly took everything the doctor and nurses handed him, searching their faces, desperately hoping that someone would suddenly come up with a way to save his mother but all he saw in their eyes was quiet compassion and sorrow._ _

__The doctor stood and took Sarah’s hand and they spoke quietly to each other. Steve stared at a painting of a meadow on the far wall and didn’t bother to listen in by reading their lips. After taking Sarah into the hall, Steve turned around walked back into the room._ _

__“How long?” he asked aloud._ _

__The doctor’s kind eyes darkened in sympathy before his mouth shaped a single word._ _

__“Weeks.”_ _

__Back in the elevator on the way down to the lobby, Steve stared at the reflection of his wide eyes and pale skin in the polished mirror of the interior doors. The abrupt stop at the lobby jolted him out of his daze and he automatically tucked Sarah’s blanket in tighter and adjusted her hat to protect her from the chilly air in the lobby. Briefly, he placed his warm hand over her cold one and gave it a gentle squeeze before walking outside to hail a cab._ _

__Somehow Steve managed to hold his emotions in check during the short ride to their apartment building but, as the shock wore off, he could feel his control begin to slip. The cab jerked to a stop and Sarah shook her head in exhaustion. Steve quickly reached to open his door but she gripped his arm firmly, stopping him._ _

__“I want to go over the Bridge.”_ _

__Steve frowned and shook his head._ _

___“Ma, we can do that another day. You are exhausted and we need to get upstairs so you can rest!”_ _ _

__For the first time that day, Sarah looked distressed._ _

___“Please Steve. I want to do this now. This is important to me.”_ _ _

__Her normally-precise hand movements were jerky and agitated and he immediately closed the door before she got any more upset. Steve tapped the cabbie on the shoulder and spoke as clearly as he could._ _

__“Take us over the Brooklyn Bridge and bring us back.”_ _

__The man nodded and pulled away from the curb. The fare would be huge but Steve would have spent his entire savings in that moment if it made his mother happy._ _

__Sarah dozed against Steve’s shoulder during the 30 minute drive and he sat quietly with his arm around her thin shoulders, trying to think about anything other than the paperwork for palliative care that sat on the seat beside him. He considered sending Bucky a text but abandoned the idea for the moment when the very thought of his boyfriend’s concern made his eyes fill with tears. Now was the time for him to be strong for Sarah and give her what she needed. Later, when he had the chance to be alone with Bucky, he had no doubt that he would fall apart and he didn’t know if he would ever be able to pull himself together._ _

__When the Bridge rose up before them, a maze of steel against the gloomy sky, he gently woke her and her eyes lit up. As they drove across and then back, she leaned against him and signed weakly, telling her son little stories about growing up in Brooklyn as a child who used to walk over the Bridge with her father and look at the Manhattan skyline. She laughed faintly as she told him that she had been sure that the skyscrapers were tall enough to reach all the way to Heaven back then. By the time her eyes fell closed again, her hands only made weak shapes in her lap but he was able to understand that she was wishing for blue skies and warm sunny days._ _

__When they reached the apartment again, she was sleeping so heavily that he had to carry her upstairs and tuck her into bed before returning for the chair. He laid her gently on her bed and switched out her oxygen tank as quietly as possible but she didn’t stir. He pulled her warm duvet up to her shoulders and stood helplessly for a moment, looking around the room before backing out and closing the door halfway._ _

__He went downstairs and fetched the empty wheelchair from the lobby of the building, grateful that he didn’t run into anyone else on his way back up. He closed the front door of their apartment behind him and only then did his knees finally give out. Sitting on the floor with his back against the door, Steve gasped out a sudden sob before clasping his hand over his lips. His breath shuddered in and out as his body tried to remember how to breathe._ _

__The Christmas tree lights on their automatic timer suddenly switched on, flooding the room in front of him with cheerful light and he curled up with his arms wrapped tightly around his knees and his head buried in the space between. He rocked side to side for a moment before fumbling in his pocket for his phone. His hands were shaking so hard he dropped it twice and he swiped the sleeve of his shirt over the trail of tears on his cheeks before managing to send the text._ _

__**{ Steve: They can’t do anything else. She only has weeks. Please. I need you. }** _ _

__Within seconds, his phone vibrated in his hands and he looked down to see Bucky’s reply._ _

__**{ Bucky: I’m on my way right now. }** _ _

__~_ _

__He’d left home the second he’d received Steve’s text, not bothering to lace his boots up and pulling on his coat as he ran down the stairs. Bucky’s heart was beating fast as he swiftly made his way to Steve’s apartment – the worst had been confirmed and Sarah was dying._ _

__It was usually a fifteen minute walk from Bucky’s apartment to Steve’s, but he made it in eight, half-sprinting down the streets with his boots slipping uncomfortably on his feet. It took him another minute to key in the building’s pass code and dash up the stairs to the third floor. His chest seized as his eyes fell on Steve’s small frame, back braced against the front door of the apartment and his skinny arms wrapped around his knees, eyes staring dead ahead._ _

__Bucky moved slowly, setting his feet down heavily on the floor as he walked towards Steve to announce his presence. Steve didn’t move until Bucky was right in front of him, crouching down so that he was eye-level._ _

__“Steve?” he murmured uselessly._ _

__Bucky could clearly see the tension in Steve’s shoulders, the way they trembled ever so slightly with the exertion of holding himself upright. Bucky knew the posture all too well – he’d sat like that enough times himself over the past year. Tentatively, he reached out and touched Steve’s arm with his fingertips – only then did his boyfriend look at him, his blue eyes full of shock and pain._ _

__“Hi, Stevie,” Bucky said gently._ _

__Steve swallowed hard, breathing shaky as Bucky ran his hand comfortingly over Steve’s arm._ _

__“My ma…” Steve choked, his voice sounding mechanical._ _

__“I know, baby,” replied Bucky. “I’m sorry.”_ _

__The sound that left Steve’s throat was sudden and loud in the quiet hallway, a sob that sounded a lot like a honking goose. In any other circumstances it would have been comical, but right now it broke Bucky’s heart as he watched the tension slip from Steve’s shoulders when he sagged forward, tears spilling from his eyes._ _

__Bucky immediately wrapped his arms around Steve’s trembling body, gathering him close as he sobbed, gently shifting their positions so that Bucky was the one with his back against the door with Steve’s face buried into his shoulder. Suddenly Bucky was fourteen again, a small person clinging to him as they cried out their grief and there was nothing he could do to make it alright._ _

__“I know,” he whispered again into Steve’s soft golden hair. “I’m sorry, baby…I’m so, so sorry.”_ _

__It must have taken at least half an hour out in the draughty hallway for Steve to get it out of his system and for his sobs to subside as Bucky rubbed soft circles against his back. The wool of his navy pea coat was soaked through with tears when Steve finally raised his head and blinked wearily at Bucky, his face pale and blotched with red, tears and snot streaked over his nose and cheeks._ _

__“You look like crap,” Bucky said slowly, cupping Steve’s face between his hands._ _

__Steve let out a snort of what could have been laughter and sniffed, drawing the back of his sleeve across his face in an attempt to wipe it clean, but only succeeded in spreading the mess further. He sighed and gave Bucky a weak smile._ _

___“I’m sorry,”_ Steve signed._ _

__Bucky shook his head firmly and let go of Steve’s cheeks._ _

___“Don’t be sorry,”_ he signed in return. _“I’m here for you to snot all over if you need to.” _____

____A small laugh escaped Steve’s mouth._ _ _ _

_____“Thank you.”_ _ _ _ _

____Bucky gave him the most comforting smile that he could manage and pushed Steve’s blond hair back from his face tenderly. Steve looked exhausted. It was late afternoon now and Bucky wondered if Steve had even eaten yet. Somehow he doubted it._ _ _ _

_____“Come on,”_ he signed. _“You take a shower and get your face clean, and I’ll fix us some food.”__ _ _ _

____Steve acquiesced and allowed Bucky to pull him to his feet and into the apartment, following him on autopilot as Bucky led him to the bathroom and turned on the shower. He half considered helping Steve to undress but decided against it – his boyfriend was in shock, not a child or an invalid. He could get in the shower all on his own._ _ _ _

____Bucky left him to it and wandered into the living room, toeing off his boots and stripping off his coat before looking blankly around the room, unsure of what to do next. After a moment, he found himself walking to Sarah’s room and knocking on the door, pushing it open when he heard a quiet reply._ _ _ _

____If he’d thought Steve looked exhausted it was nothing to how his mother looked. Even in a couple of days her eyes had sunk further into their dark-rimmed sockets and her skin was deathly pale and thin, yet she still smiled warmly at him._ _ _ _

____“Bucky!”_ _ _ _

____“Hi Sarah,” he murmured from the door, returning her smile._ _ _ _

____“Where’s Steve?”_ _ _ _

____“In the shower,” Bucky replied quietly. “How are you feeling?”_ _ _ _

____Sarah Rogers smiled ruefully at him._ _ _ _

____“I feel like I’m dying,” she said, her voice carrying a hint of mirth._ _ _ _

____“Yeah? Terminal cancer’ll do that to you.”_ _ _ _

____She laughed at him and shook her head fondly, eyes closing lightly as it left her slightly out of breath. At least she was still in good spirits, Bucky thought, even if the death jokes were a little morbid._ _ _ _

____“I knew there was a reason why I liked you so much,” she murmured. “How is he?”_ _ _ _

____“Devastated,” Bucky replied softly._ _ _ _

____He could have lied. He could have told Sarah that her son was holding up just fine, that he was a trooper, but he wouldn’t do that. For all that Steve was the toughest cookie Bucky had ever encountered, he was still only human and his mother was the only family he had left. Of course Steve was going to be devastated and Sarah knew that – it was pointless lying._ _ _ _

____She smiled sadly at him._ _ _ _

____“I thought he understood,” she told him. “I said when we started my last treatment that all it was doing was buying me a little more time. I thought he understood that there wouldn’t be any more treatments…”_ _ _ _

____“He loves you,” Bucky said softly. “He was always going to hold out hope.”_ _ _ _

____Sarah nodded slowly._ _ _ _

____“I’m glad that he met you when he did,” she replied. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen him so happy…”_ _ _ _

____“Sarah…”_ _ _ _

____Bucky trailed off, looking at his feet. He didn’t know what to say to her, didn’t know how to explain that he’d never been so happy himself since meeting Steve, didn’t know how to tell her how deeply and completely in love with her son he was. Across the hall, he heard the water stop running in the bathroom and he pushed himself up from the door frame._ _ _ _

____“I was gonna order some food in. Can I get you some chicken soup?”_ _ _ _

____Sarah Rogers smiled at him again._ _ _ _

____“That would be lovely, Bucky. Thank you.”_ _ _ _

____He was looking up numbers for takeout when Steve padded back into the living room, hair combed back and skin glowing pink all over from the hot water. His blue eyes were still red-rimmed, but he looked better than he had just a little while earlier. Bucky grinned at him._ _ _ _

_____“That’s better,”_ he signed. _“Your face won’t scare small children now.”__ _ _ _

_____“Asshole,”_ Steve responded, but he was smirking._ _ _ _

____Bucky ordered Chinese while Steve updated Sam and Nancy Wilson on Sarah’s condition. He’d thought that Sam would have been the first person that Steve contacted with the bad news, the first person he’d wanted to see. If the circumstances hadn’t been so unhappy, Bucky would have felt elated that Steve had wanted him, had needed him. As it happened, it was hard to be thrilled at being his boyfriend’s first call when he discovered his mother was dying._ _ _ _

____The food, when it arrived, was good. Steve took Sarah’s soup in to her, but neither him nor Bucky was surprised when she only managed a few spoonfuls. After Bucky had made sure that Steve had eaten a fair portion of egg rolls, rice and General Tsao’s chicken, they curled up on the couch together to watch Boardwalk Empire. Steve tucked himself against the back of the couch and Bucky’s left side, head resting in the centre of his chest so that he could feel Bucky’s heartbeat._ _ _ _

____He fit so well in Bucky’s arms, so perfectly that it was like they had been made for each other. Steve was quiet, fists bunched up in Bucky’s t-shirt, sporadically letting out a shaky sigh and a sniffle while Bucky rubbed his hand over the prominent bumps of Steve’s spine. When he felt the front of his t-shirt grow damp, Bucky held Steve tighter._ _ _ _

____“Shhh…baby…” he murmured. “It’s okay. Well…no, it’s not okay. I know it’s not okay. I wanna lie, Stevie, and tell you that it’ll be fine, that it’ll get easier, but the truth is that it doesn’t.”_ _ _ _

____Bucky knew that Steve couldn’t hear him but it didn’t matter – he knew that Bucky was talking to him, would be able to feel the rumble of words in his chest and that would be a comfort of some sort._ _ _ _

____“You learn to live with it,” he continued, “but it’s always there – that loss, that gap in your life – every birthday, every holiday, and it’s like a scab being picked off just when you thought it was starting to heal. You don’t get over it, but you do learn to live with it. The pain dulls a little as you get used to it, even if it never really goes away._ _ _ _

____I know that nobody can ever replace her, but I promise you, Stevie that there are people who love you, people will always be there for you, to support you. I promise you that I’m one of them. I’m here for you baby – anything you need, anything I can do for you and I’ll do it. I love you.”_ _ _ _

____Steve’s breathing had evened out and the dampness on Bucky’s shirt had begun to dry. Bucky pressed a kiss to the top of Steve’s head and Steve made a small, sleepy noise._ _ _ _

____“I love you so fucking much, Stevie,” Bucky confessed aloud to the quiet room. “I wish I had the guts to tell you when you’re looking at me, or to sign it for you. Maybe it’s enough for now to say it like this? I dunno…one day I’ll tell you properly, I swear. I’m sure you gotta know it by now anyway…”_ _ _ _

____Steve was asleep, all ninety-five pounds of him suddenly heavier against Bucky’s body as all the tension in him finally relaxed. With as little movement as possible, Bucky pulled down the blanket from the back of the couch and covered them both with it, tucking the corners around Steve to keep him as warm as possible. Softly, he kissed Steve’s hair again._ _ _ _

____“I love you,” he whispered. “I love you.”_ _ _ _


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, my co-writer is claiming that she's trash for delaying the chapter, but she's had a hell of a week so instead, we give her some hugs, yeah?
> 
> Also, we have fanart! With her permission, the first chapter of this fic now has cover art by Lilfayte on tumblr. Go giveher some love too, because she's awesome.

A double-shot mocha and a gingerbread latte sat on the table in front of Bucky as he nervously tapped his foot against the metal table leg and checked his phone for the time once again. He had really not been looking forward to this meeting at all – in fact, he was pretty sure that he was about to get chewed out about the whole Steve situation. It was pretty much all Bucky’s fault anyway, seeing as he really should have had this conversation weeks, if not months ago.

He jumped slightly as somebody rapped sharply on the window and he turned his head to see Rebecca grinning maniacally at him. Bucky couldn’t help but laugh as he watched her walk into the coffee shop, unwinding her scarf from around her neck and chuckling to herself.

There was no doubt in anybody’s mind that Rebecca and Bucky were brother and sister – she was almost as tall as he was with the same broad shoulders and square jaw, grey-blue eyes and brown hair. Her shoulders were balanced out by wide hips and she was undoubtedly prettier and more fashionable than her brother, but essentially they were carbon copies of one another, right down to their identical smirks.

“Greetings, brother mine!” Becca said cheerfully as she shed her coat and draped it over the back of her chair before collapsing into it and reaching for the gingerbread latte.

“Hey, brat,” replied Bucky with a smirk.

His sister snorted at him over the rim of her mug.

“Don’t ‘brat’ me, James Barnes,” she said with a raised eyebrow. “I’ve not seen you since the morning you fixed my washing machine and suddenly you call me up and buy me coffee. I know you want something so you’d better be nice to me.”

Bucky sighed gently.

“You’re smarter than you look,” he muttered.

“So…what do you want?”

Rebecca tapped a perfectly manicured fingernail against her mug as she watched her brother closely. Bucky rubbed a hand over the back of his neck and took a deep breath – she wasn’t going to be happy about what he was going to tell her.

“It’s about Christmas…”

“OH!” Becca interrupted, sitting up straight and beaming at him. “Are you bringing your boyfriend? Aunt Helen told me you had a fella now and that’s the reason you weren’t at home for Thanksgiving – thank you for not telling me by the way…I turned up expecting to see my brother only to find out that you’ve got a new boyfriend and you’re spending the day with him. Anyway, it doesn’t matter. Do I need to get him a gift?”

Bucky bit his lip. This was what he’d been dreading. He and his sister had never spent a single holiday apart before now and he’d completely failed to let her know about Thanksgiving, leaving it up to his former foster parent to break the news to her. They way Rebecca was looking at him right now damn near broke his heart – she looked so excited, genuinely believing that she’d be meeting Steve in a couple of weeks, that Bucky would be bringing him to their crowded, bustling, loud foster home to let kids jump on him and have Aunt Helen stuff him full of lamb and roast potatoes.

“I’m not coming for Christmas,” he said quietly.

Rebecca’s face fell.

“What do you mean you’re not coming for Christmas? You’re always with me for Christmas.”

“Becks…”

“Bucky, you’re my brother! You’re the only real family I have left in the whole world! We always spend Christmas together, ever since we were kids. You promised me…”

“Rebecca, will you just listen to me?” Bucky interrupted loudly, pinching the bridge of his nose.

His sister’s mouth clamped shut and she gave him a stony look. Bucky sighed heavily and shuffled forward in his chair.

“Steve, my boyfriend…he was told the other day that his ma is dying. She’s got a couple of weeks left, so this is her last Christmas – it’s his last Christmas with her – and she’s the only family that he has left. There’s nobody else. I can spend every other Christmas with you Becks, but this year I need to be there for Steve. Okay?”

“But you promised,” she replied petulantly.

It was as though Bucky were sitting with his nine year old sister again, bottom lip quivering as she asked him what would happen to orphans at Christmas, if Santa knew where to take the presents, if they would get to hang stockings, if they could ask for their parents back. That first year he had promised he’d never leave her alone – that promise almost broke the day he was rushed into hospital with meningitis, and the second he’d woke up Bucky had renewed it.

Now he was hit by a sickening wave of guilt.

“Becks,” he said quietly, “I know I promised. I know. But we’re not kids anymore – you’re nineteen, you’re in college. When you wake up on Christmas morning, you know that you’re going to be surrounded by people who love you – you’ll have Helen, you’ll have her current ten kids, everyone we grew up with, people from the neighbourhood, and you’re going to be stuffed full of food. When Steve wakes up on Christmas morning, he’s going to be on his own and taking care of his dying mother. You don’t need me there, Rebecca. You might want me there, but you don’t need me. Steve does. Don’t make him be alone just because you want to enforce a ten year old promise made to you as a kid.”

Rebecca looked at the floor and sighed gently, turning her half-empty mug around in her hands as she thought about what he’d told her.

“Okay,” she replied eventually. “I mean, I’m not happy about it, but I get it.”

Bucky sighed in relief and reached forward, placing his right hand over her’s.

“I’m sorry,” Bucky murmured. “I know I should have talked to you before now but…it’s been a bit of a whirlwind. Everything kinda happened so fast…”

“It’s fine,” Rebecca said, setting her mug aside and crossing one long leg over the other. “So, while I’m here, do I get to hear the whole story of Steve?”

Bucky grinned at her.

“You really wanna know?”

“Hell yeah. Your love life since age sixteen has been seriously pathetic so if you’ve actually got a story to tell with this one, I wanna hear it! I mean, he must be something seriously special if you’re giving up Christmas day with awesome moi…is it L-O-V-E?”

He laughed, relief flooding through him that his sister was taking this so much easier than he’d actually expected. Rebecca had always been his bratty little sister but maybe she was starting to mature now that she was in college. Either way, he was glad.

“Okay,” he replied. “I’ll tell you all about him, but only if you promise not to tease me.”

His sister snorted in amusement.

“I’m not promising anything.”

“Brat,” Bucky said with a smile.

~

In his 24 years, Steve couldn’t ever remember his head hurting quite this much. He had not slept well during the 3 days since Sarah’s appointment with anxiety dragging him mercilessly from his bed and into his mother’s room every hour to check her oxygen levels and make sure she was resting peacefully. When he wasn’t wearing a path in the wood floor between his bedroom and his mother’s, he would find himself suddenly jolted out of a restless sleep, waking terrified and panicked with a feeling that he had forgotten something vital.

When that happened, Bucky sat up with him and rubbed his back until he could breathe and waited patiently while he rolled out of bed to check on Sarah yet again. Sometimes Steve just stood by her bed for long minutes, twisting his hands together helplessly and automatically counting her breaths as she slept, just as she had done for him when he was a child. Those were the times he slipped back into bed with tears on his cheeks and curled into Bucky’s warm, comforting embrace.

The past few days, Bucky had been Steve’s rock. He held Steve’s hand through the process of setting up hospice care, he ran errands to the pharmacy and the grocery store, and he even called his Aunt Helen to beg for recipes that might be easy on Sarah’s stomach and tempt her to eat. After Steve was forced to sit calmly and listen to Sarah and Father Ryan discuss her preferences for her funeral arrangements and burial, Bucky grabbed him by the arm as soon as the door closed behind the priest and took him to the bathroom, shutting the door and turning on the shower so that no one would be able to hear Steve’s angry sobs or the sound of his knuckles cracking against the tile.

The fact of the matter was that Steve WAS incredibly angry. Day after day, he lived with a burning rage in the pit of his stomach and, day by day, it grew. When he had to help Sarah sit up while she gasped for breath, that feeling of helpless fury grew larger. When he watched the medical supply company bring in the cold metal hospital bed, he wanted to throw the fireplace tools through the window. When he paced the length of the living room and looked at Sarah’s empty chair and the stockings above the fireplace, he just wanted to put his fist straight through the wall. He was angry at God and angry at himself for his own inability to actually do anything to make his mother better. Unfocused and scattered, his rage sought a target and it ended up settling on the first convenient one that came along.

Steve knew that Bucky was trying his best to help in every way he could and he appreciated it more than he would ever be able to express. As a matter of fact, he didn’t think he would have survived the last few days without his boyfriend’s calm, steady presence at his side, ready to offer comfort or to help out with some of the more practical errands and chores. At any other time, he would have been more gracious but he was feeling particularly overwhelmed at the moment.

Earlier, an alarm on Sarah’s monitor had alerted him to her low oxygen level and Steve ran to her room to find her breathing rapidly, her eyes wide with anxiety. He quickly raised the head of her bed and put the oxygen mask on her face and she had smiled in relief as she fell back asleep. It had happened more frequently over the past 24 hours and Steve was feeling desperate and helpless. He stood in the room and debated calling for the hospice nurse on-call, but he knew that there was nothing the nurse could do that he hadn’t already done.

He wished there was something, anything at all, he could do. He would have been willing to beg and plead, to pay any price to have his mother healthy again, putting a batch of cookies in the oven while she teasingly scolded him for eating the raw dough out of the bowl. When he thought about all of the precious little moments he had taken for granted, he felt guilty for not appreciating her more at the time.

Bucky was cleaning the kitchen counters and putting away dishes when Steve walked past and slumped onto a kitchen chair with his head cradled on his arms. His stocking feet were quiet on the wood floor as he walked over and touched Steve’s arm gently. Startled and on edge, Steve jerked his head up and glared at Bucky.

 _“Is everything okay?"_ Bucky signed, while ignoring the summer blue eyes that were currently shooting daggers.

Steve laughed bitterly and leaned back in his chair.

 _“Sure it is. Everything is great, B-U-C-K-Y.”_ Steve signed with swift, angry precision, spelling out Bucky’s name instead of using his normal name sign. _“My mother is dying in the other room and I’m pretty much worthless at doing anything except watching her suffer but everything is just awesome. I was thinking we could have a party. Maybe invite some friends. We can make Jell-O shots.”_

Steve pushed back from the table and stalked across the room to stare out of the window. Snow was falling again and the world was cold and gray, which made him even angrier when he remembered his mother wishing for warmth and sun. He felt Bucky’s presence behind him but stubbornly ignored him in favour of looking at the people on the sidewalks below. After a few minutes, Bucky moved back to the kitchen and began sweeping the floor. Steve stood at the living room window, watching Bucky’s reflection in the glass and growing irrationally angry. Finally, he spun around and walked back to the kitchen.

“Stop! Bucky just stop!” Steve grabbed the broom and tossed it across the kitchen before running his fingers through his golden hair in agitation.

Bucky’s gray eyes were wide in shock and he put his hands up, palms-out, in a placating motion. “Okay Steve,” he said aloud, Steve following the shapes that his mouth made and then watching Bucky’s hands form words instead. _“I’m sorry. I’m just trying to help you.”_

Steve’s cheeks were bright pink and he was breathing heavily.

"I don’t need your help." he said out loud before signing, _"For fuck’s sake Bucky, I’m not a child and I don’t need you here cleaning up after me. Why are you even here?”_

Bucky jerked back as if Steve had slapped him, silky dark strands of hair falling into his face, and somewhere deep inside, it made Steve feel small and mean. Bucky frowned at him.

 _“You really don’t know? You really don’t know why I’m here, Steve?"_ he signed slowly.

Steve stubbornly gave a careless, exaggerated shrug, and Bucky backed up toward the door several steps before stepping into his shoes and throwing his hands up in surrender. He walked out, shutting the door behind him with a finality that jolted Steve out of his stubborn temper.

It had been 37 minutes and Steve still had not heard a word from Bucky at all. He knew the exact amount of time that had lapsed because he sent an apology text 26 minutes ago. Then he sent another, more heartfelt apology 12 minutes later. Two minutes ago, he even tried calling and Bucky didn’t pick up. Nothing. Steve paced the floor with his phone clenched in his hand and tears in his eyes.

Bucky was just trying to help him and he completely fucked everything up. He wanted so badly to turn back the clock so that he never had to see the pain in Bucky’s eyes that was caused by his temper tantrum. He desperately wished he could leave and chase after Bucky. He would have gladly searched every inch of Manhattan in the snow just for the chance to beg for forgiveness and spill out all of the words and emotions that were in his heart but there was no possible way he would ever Sarah alone.

Just as he fell heavily onto the sofa with his head in his hands, the doorbell pager at his waist went off. Steve ran to the door with his heart slamming against his rib cage, hoping to see Bucky on the other side but as he wrenched the door open, he saw Sam standing there with a cocked eyebrow and his arm around Nat. Sam walked past him into the apartment with Nat trailing a step behind and he turned in the foyer and shook his head.

_“Rogers, what the hell is wrong with you? Nat and I are here to sit with your mother and don’t even try arguing with us or I’m going let her beat your cute little ass. Bucky is at HYDRA with Clint and I suggest you get down there ASAP.”_

Steve didn’t even question how Sam knew about the blow-up. He grabbed his coat, hugged Sam tightly, waved apologetically at Nat, who gave him a nod, and ran as fast as he could.

By the time the cab squealed to a stop in front of HYDRA, Steve was shaking all over. He threw some money at the cabbie and burst out into the cold, slipping and sliding in the icy sidewalk in front of the dark club. The sleek, reflective black and silver front doors were locked tight and Steve had a moment of panic as he wondered if he was too late.

He didn’t even slow down as he skidded around the side of the building to the rear entrance, falling to his knees once before jumping up and flinging the door open. Ignoring the pain in his bruised kneecaps, he ran down the dark red hallway to the main dance floor and stopped in his tracks when he saw his boyfriend standing alone by the DJ booth.

Bucky was so beautiful in the dim light of the club. His dark hair was unbound and his metal arm gleamed dully. His face was mostly in shadow but Steve could see the stubble on his jaw and that sexy cleft chin that Steve loved so much. Bucky caught sight of Steve standing there and turned quickly with a vulnerable look on his face that hit Steve like a knife in the heart. Scarcely able to breathe and practically in tears, Steve stepped forward.

"Bucky! Bucky! I’m s…s..sorry!" He gasped out between puffs on his inhaler.

Bucky didn’t even hesitate as he walked up to Steve and pulled him in to a gentle hug, rubbing his back as Steve clung to him and choked out whispered apologies as he listened to the steady beat of his boyfriend’s heart in time with his hand rubbing circles on Steve’s back.

Suddenly, Bucky stepped back, motioning for Steve to stay put as he crossed over to the DJ booth and pressed a button. Immediately, Steve felt the slow bass from the huge speakers. Confused, he watched Bucky with wide eyes as Bucky walked back to him, taking his hands to place soft kisses on his palms. Steve curled his hands gently around Bucky’s jaw, cupping his face and stepped closer until their chests were touching. Bucky took one of Steve’s hands and placed it over his heart so that the smaller man could feel it beating and feel the rumble in Bucky’s chest as he softly sang the lyrics to the song. They swayed back and forth together in time to the music and Steve wrapped his free hand around the back of Bucky’s neck to play with his hair.

Steve realized that this was why they were at HYDRA. Bucky had obviously asked Clint to open the club for him and had arranged for Nat and Sam to be with Sarah. He watched Bucky’s lips, his heart beating too fast and a smile beginning to spread across his face as he read the words to the love song Bucky was singing. To him. Bucky was singing a love song to him. He might not be able to hear the music but the emotion on Bucky’s face was clear enough.

Steve’s eyes filled with tears again. He had expected to find his boyfriend angry and hurt but instead he was slow-dancing with the man he loved more than anything in the world - the most kind, understanding, and compassionate person Steve had ever met.

Tears slipped down Steve’s cheeks.

"I don’t deserve you," he whispered, feeling his voice catch in his throat

Bucky suddenly caught Steve’s face between his hands, grey blue eyes earnest as he spoke clearly.

"Back at the apartment, you asked me why I was here. Steve, I love you. That’s why I’m here - because I love you".

Happiness filled Steve’s heart until he felt like he was going to explode.

"I love you too, Bucky. I love you so much," he choked out.

He had only a second to glimpse Bucky’s face light up like the sun before they were kissing slow and deep. Steve ran his hands through Bucky’s hair and he felt Bucky grip his back through his shirt. They weren’t even swaying with the beat of the music anymore. Standing in the middle of the dimly lit dance floor, they held each other close and lost themselves in the wet slide of lips and the darting licks and little nibbles that made them both moan softly.

When Steve pulled back, his cheeks were still wet and he shook his head in disbelief. 

“You love me.” he whispered.

It sounded almost confident enough to be a statement but Bucky could obviously hear the question in it. He smiled and ran his fingers through Steve’s hair.

“It’s almost hard for me to remember a time when I didn’t love you.”

Steve wrapped his arms around Bucky’s neck and brought their foreheads together, dark brown and golden blond hair mixed together. Steve couldn’t feel the beat of the music any more so he just closed his eyes and memorized everything he could possibly remember about this moment as let Bucky lead him in another slow dance.

~

Bucky wasn’t sure he’d ever felt anything quite as wonderful as Steve’s hands on his skin, those long slender fingers running up his back with a perfect, gentle pressure. He groaned loudly into the blanket underneath him as Steve dug his thumbs into Bucky’s sacrum and rubbed small circles into the muscles at the base of his spine. It was sheer bliss.

Steve hadn’t actually been the one to suggest this – it had initially been Bucky’s idea, and he was supposed to be the one giving the massage.

It had been a hell of a day – their bust-up, their dance, their admissions of love. He’d expected the blow-out. They hadn’t been together all that long, but Bucky like to think that he knew Steve well enough to understand how angry he’d be with everything. It had taken a few days to come to the surface and had hurt an awful lot more than Bucky had expected it to, but he understood. He also knew that this was the right time to tell his boyfriend just how much he loved him.

He’d called Clint with his plan, and then called Sam and asked him to sit with Sarah for an hour, briefly explaining about Steve’s outburst. Bucky’s iPod was in his pocket and he’d flicked through the songs on his way to HYDRA – he had to choose something with a heavy bass so that Steve could feel it, but it also had to be slow, the lyrics heartfelt. The second he saw the track, he knew it was perfect – ‘Kiss Me’ by Ed Sheeran. It pretty much summed up everything that Bucky felt about Steve.

Bucky had told Steve that he loved him and Steve had said it right back, and Bucky was walking on clouds right now. Between checking on Sarah, they had spent the rest of the afternoon tangled on the couch together, Steve still pretty shaken by the whole day. He’d thought Bucky had left him – Bucky explained that he was in so fucking deep that he didn’t think he’d ever be able to get out. He loved Steve too fucking much.

Once Sarah Rogers had taken her sleeping meds and was comfortable for the night, Bucky had pulled Steve into his lap in front of the fire in the living room.

He would probably never be over kissing Steve, that insistent tongue pushing against his own, those fingers in his hair, Steve’s sweet groans that dissolved into Bucky’s mouth as he nipped gently at Steve’s bottom lip. The room had been filled with the sound of the crackling fire and of their heavy breathing, Steve’s skinny knees digging into Bucky’s hips as he rocked gently in Bucky’s lap, the two of them shedding clothes to get to the skin underneath.

Bucky had suggested the massage…or at least, he was the one that produced the small bottle of sweet almond oil from his bag. Having an irremovable titanium prosthetic arm took its toll on his muscles and Bucky was supposed to have regular massages to ease them. However, he’d missed his last two appointments so he’d stashed his own little bottle of oil in his bag, planning on rubbing some into his right shoulder and spine at some point during his stay at Steve’s apartment.

He’d absolutely meant to give his boyfriend a back rub, but had found himself happily surprised when Steve took the bottle from him and gently pushed Bucky to the floor. Now, Bucky was practically drooling into the blanket whilst Steve’s nimble fingers worked loose the weeks’ worth of tension from his back and it was unbelievably good. He was also a little more turned on than he should be.

Steve’s thumbs worked lower, massaging small circles into the top of Bucky’s gluteals before sweeping beneath the waistband of his underwear. Bucky gasped sharply, his own noise startling him slightly. Steve’s weight was settled on the backs of Bucky’s thighs as he worked, pinning Bucky’s lower half to the floor. It had been fine until that moment, but now Bucky was starting to get hard with his boyfriend’s gorgeous hands palming over his ass. Not for the first time, Bucky wondered what those fingers might feel like if they just slipped inside of him, worked him open – he didn’t really consider himself a bottom but right here, right now, in front of this beautiful warm fire and with the man he was completely in love with, he really wanted to be.

Pushing himself up onto his elbows, he twisted around as much as he could so he could see Steve’s face. The movement on his gluteals ceased as Steve stopped and frowned at him in concern.

 _“Am I hurting you?”_ Steve signed.

Bucky gave him a small smile and shook his head.

“No…”

Steve smiled in relief and leaned forward to kiss Bucky, his weight lifting off Bucky’s thighs and allowing him to turn around fully, pulling Steve into the space between his legs. Bucky ran his hands through Steve’s soft blond hair and kissed him tenderly before drawing back slightly. Steve was gorgeous – his gold hair tinted apricot by the orange glow of the fire, his pale skin bronzed. Bucky drew his bottom lip between his teeth, worrying it for a couple of seconds before making his decision.

 _“I want you to fuck me,”_ he signed with certainty.

Steve’s blue eyes went wide as he sat back and stared open-mouthed at Bucky.

_“Are you sure?”_

It was incredibly sweet, the way Steve’s brow creased with concern again as he asked, as though Bucky wouldn’t be one hundred percent positive about it, that he had to check.

 _“Yes,”_ Bucky replied, smiling up at Steve from on his back. _“I want to feel you inside me, baby.”_

Steve stared at him seriously for a moment before smiling, giving the smallest of nods before leaning forward to press a small kiss against Bucky’s lips.

“Okay,” Steve murmured.

Bucky’s breath came in gasps and soft moans as Steve kissed down his body – across the scars at his shoulder, tracing every inch of Bucky’s body with his mouth, driving him crazy with need. This was the first time Steve had done this to him – up until now it had always been him worshipping Steve, and now it was the other way around, Steve taking his time with kissing and licking, teeth gently nipping at skin before he settled between Bucky’s thighs, pushing his legs wide as he dipped his head and sucked the tip of Bucky’s dick into his mouth.

“FUCK!” Bucky cursed loudly, his head falling back against the floor and eyes wide at the hot, sweet wet of Steve’s mouth.

Steve took his time with it, not hurried and desperate like the first time he’d sucked Bucky off, back against the wall and so wound up that Bucky had come within moments. This time, Steve was slow and deliberate, soft suckles at the head, running his lips down over the shaft, tongue flickering out and lapping gently at the soft skin of Bucky’s balls. Those gorgeous, slender hands rubbed circles into Bucky’s inner thighs, slid down and under to knead his ass, thumbs sliding between his cheeks.

“God, Stevie…that feels amazing,” he whispered, smoothing back that soft gold hair from Steve’s face.

His boyfriend was looking up at him, lips stretched around Bucky’s cock, blue eyes huge and almost black in the firelight and making small, low noises in his throat as he sucked. Bucky barely realised when he was breached by oil-slick fingers because at the same moment, Steve swallowed him down, Bucky’s cock hitting the back of his throat for a second. Bucky saw stars as he grasped a large handful of straw blond hair, his metal fist bunched up in the blanket by his head.

“Oh fuck…oh fuck, baby…” Bucky groaned, his voice echoing in the otherwise quiet room.

He bit down hard on his lip as Steve moaned loudly around him, his free hand stroking up and over Bucky’s stomach soothingly. Steve was surprisingly well coordinated, gently working Bucky open in perfect rhythm with sucking him off, his mouth sliding down Bucky’s shaft as his finger pushed in, and sliding back up with a small, harder suck to the head as his finger eased back again.

It felt so good and Steve’s hair was a tangled mess where Bucky couldn’t stop pulling at it, petting it, quite literally blown away by how Steve was taking him apart so expertly for a guy who’d never done this before. Bucky was breathless and sweating and shaking with the need for more by the time he dragged Steve up the length of his body, crushing Steve’s red, swollen lips against his own, wrapping his knees around those slight hips and pulling him in.

Steve kissed him through it, the initial stretch that his body resisted at first and then suddenly gave in to the pressure. Bucky was filled up, achingly slowly, Steve’s small, slight body trembling with the effort not to just push right in to the hilt straight away. Bucky knew all too well how intoxicating it was, having your cock enveloped in that sweet tight heat, of the warm, pliant body under you, pulling you in.

He gasped for breath, overwhelmed by just how much it was, this gorgeous little fella that he loved so damn much, kissing over Bucky’s jaw, down the side of his neck, over his throat as Steve rocked his hips ever so slightly.

"I love you," Steve whispered against his skin.

Bucky couldn’t help but whimper, his arms tightening around Steve’s back, hands sliding over the hard knobs of his spine as Steve’s hands found their way into Bucky’s hair.

“I love you too. Stevie, I love you too.”

The pace stayed slow, Steve deep inside of him, just rocking his hips gently. In that position, at that angle, they could kiss easily and keep kissing, wet and messy, all tongues and soft moans smothered by swollen lips. The heat from the fire made them sweat, tiny droplets rolling down their skin and pooling behind their knees and in the crooks of their elbows, beading along their hairlines.

Steve looked beautiful in the firelight, all gold and bronze, the shadows highlighting the sharpness of his features. Bucky couldn’t bear to look away, his eyes staying open as they moved together, drinking in everything he could and desperate to ingrain every single detail about this night into his memory.

He could feel the tension build up in his belly and thighs, but not in the way he was used to. Bucky could feel it in the base of his spine too, that rolling pressure that was just shy of being enough. Anchoring one ankle around the back of Steve’s thigh, the metal fingers of Bucky’s left hand dug into the firm fleshy buttock of his boyfriend as he slipped his right hand between their bodies and took hold of his dick. A couple of strokes were enough to evoke the sweet, sharp tightness and he moaned softly against Steve’s lips.

Steve was breathing hard, panting through his open mouth, breath hot and heavy, moans spilling from his lips as his thrusts began to get a little more erratic.

“Bucky…” he murmured. “Bucky…oh…!”

Those blue eyes went wide as Bucky sucked Steve’s bottom lip into his mouth and bit it softly before releasing.

“Oh fuck, baby…I’m so close…so close…”

Bucky’s hand worked fast as his own dick, smearing the pre-come from the tip all the way down the shaft, toes and fingertips tingling as he dug his heel into Steve’s thigh. They came almost at the same time, Bucky tipping over the edge first in a rush of heat that flooded through his body, shouting Steve’s name as his back arched up from the floor. Steve followed him a second later, lips pressed to Bucky’s throat as he pulled out just in time to come, hot and sticky over the inside of Bucky’s left thigh.

“Fuck….fuck….”

“…Bucky…”

They both were breathing hard and fast as Bucky pulled Steve into his arms and kissed him, pushing his hands through sweat-soaked golden hair and down Steve’s neck, over his shoulders and down his back, swallowing his sweet little noises.

Steve’s weight on him was comfortable, damp blond head tucked neatly under Bucky’s chin and his body all sharp angles under Bucky’s hands and he stroked up and down Steve’s sides.

“I love you, Bucky,” Steve murmured against his chest, his fingertips softly tracing the scarred ridge where Bucky’s shoulder met his prosthetic.

Bucky smiled and pressed a kiss to the top of Steve’s head.

“I love you too, baby,” he replied.

Steve snuggled into him and sighed contentedly, not needing to see Bucky’s face to know what he said – he could feel the rumble in Bucky’s chest as he talked. They loved each other and now they both knew it. At that moment, neither could have been happier or more content than they were falling asleep in each other’s arms, the orange fire crackling next to them.


	19. Chapter 19

Steve couldn’t think of a better way to wake up on Christmas morning than to Bucky’s mouth on the side of his neck, lips grazing softly over the pulse point as his hands smoothed up Steve’s side and over onto his stomach, pulling his body back against the solid mass and warmth of his boyfriend.

Despite his mother’s rapidly declining health, the past week had been nothing short of blissful for Steve - he was honestly the happiest he’d ever been in his entire life. It had been perfect and domestic, Steve making breakfast and Bucky cooking dinner, both of them sharing the washing up afterwards and spending the evenings watching movies on the couch, their nights spent wrapped around each other, naked under the warm blankets and whispering endearments into each other’s skin.

Steve couldn’t get enough, pulling Bucky on top of him in bed at night and again as they woke up in the morning, craving his boyfriend’s touch, his mouth, the feel of Bucky’s gorgeously thick cock stretching him out as he fucked Steve raw. Always deep, always hard, unable to satisfy his need for the delicious sharp heat that spiked through his body with every thrust.

He moaned hotly into his pillow, fingers curling around the edge of his mattress to hold himself still as Bucky fucked into him from behind, metal fingers digging hard into Steve’s hip and flesh ones pulling at his blond hair.

“Fuck yes…Bucky…fuck…harder…fuck…”

His boyfriend willingly obliged as always, lips clamping over Steve’s earlobe and sucking hard in time with his thrusts, hips snapping against Steve’s backside. Bucky’s breath was hot and wet in his ear and it drove Steve crazy, senses completely overwhelmed. All he could do was hang on and muffle his shouts in the pillow under his head as he hurtled towards the edge. One day he’d ask for it to be slow, for Bucky to be gentle and soft and make it last for ages, but right now this was too good and he didn’t want it any other way.

The truth of it was, Steve Rogers adored being mercilessly fucked. He loved having his body pushed as far as it could possibly go, loved the tiny pin-point bruises that Bucky’s fingertips left on his hips and thighs from gripping so hard, couldn’t get enough of the purple hickeys that marked him as Bucky’s for the entire world to see, loved having his entire body ache for hours after sex, reminding him that he wasn’t nearly as delicate or fragile as people believed him to be.

Bucky’s teeth scraped sharply across Steve’s neck and he groaned, that sweet white heat pooling in his belly and thighs, threatening to spill over at any moment. He was coming the second he touched himself, hand snaking down between his legs to give his dick one sharp tug that sent him over the edge, spurting hot and sticky over his fingers as he gasped and shuddered through his orgasm.

“I wanna taste you,” he whispered breathlessly to Bucky, hands tugging weakly at his boyfriend’s arms as he rolled onto his back.

Bucky was up and on his knees immediately, moving up the bed to straddle Steve’s shoulders, hands gripping the headboard and Steve’s fingers wrapped around his cock, working him swiftly to orgasm. Bucky looked damn stunning, eyes dark as he watched Steve under him, long hair falling forward into his face as he dragged his teeth over his bottom lip, chest rising and falling fast. It only took Steve a minute before Bucky tensed up, throwing his head back in a cry as he came. Steve moaned wantonly, craning his neck to catch every bitter-salt drop on his tongue and swallow it down, his free hand stroking soothingly over Bucky’s bare thigh.

He was laughing softly by the time Bucky collapsed heavily beside him again, flushed and gorgeous and smiling at him.

 _“Happy Christmas,”_ Steve signed with a grin.

He watched Bucky’s shoulders shake as he laughed too.

 _“Are all my Christmas presents going to be that spectacular?”_ he asked.

 _“Only if you’re a good boy,”_ Steve replied with a wicked grin.

~

Bucky had honestly never been so well-sexed in his entire life, not even in the six weeks he’d been with Natasha when he was eighteen and in his first year at Juilliard. He grinned to himself as he padded through the apartment, past the bathroom where he could hear Steve humming tunelessly in the shower, and into the living room where he picked up the sweater than had been abandoned on the floor the previous night on the way to bed and shrugged it on.

Steve had already been up and made Sarah her morning tea and sorted her medication while Bucky had showered. Now it was Bucky’s turn to make coffee and bacon for his boyfriend while Steve washed away the evidence of their morning’s exploits.

Bucky topped up the coffee machine with water and fresh grinds before turning it on, looking up occasionally and glancing out of the window to where the snow was fluttering softly outside. He fucking loved snow at Christmas – it just made everything that bit more festive and special with everything covered in a soft, white blanket, so fresh and clean and bright.

He left the coffee to percolate and headed to Sarah’s room, knocking lightly on the door before sticking his head around it. She was already sitting up, propped against a small mountain of pillows, bright headscarf wrapped around her head and tied in a graceful bow at the side. Sarah Rogers smiled at him.

“Bucky!” she greeted him warmly.

“Merry Christmas, Sarah,” Bucky replied, grinning back as he moved into the room to give her a kiss on the cheek.

“Merry Christmas to you too, sweetheart.”

Sarah had gone downhill rapidly in the last two weeks – now she no longer had the strength to get out of bed, she had no appetite, and she barely had the energy to drink the herbal tea that Steve continued to bring her throughout the day. She was skin and bones and fading fast, but still smiling despite it all.

“Where did Steve get to?” she asked quietly.

“The shower,” Bucky said. “I’m just making coffee and then I’m gonna give him his present.”

Sarah smiled at him.

“Come back in here when you’re done. I got presents too.”

Bucky was pretty nervous about giving Steve his gift. They hadn’t actually discussed the situation of Christmas presents at all – Bucky wasn’t even entirely sure if he’d been supposed to get Steve a gift at all, and what he did have for him wasn’t really much. He’d wrapped it clumsily, getting tape stuck to the fingers of his prosthetic and fumbling over tying the bow of red ribbon around it. It actually looked like a total mess.

All the same, he waited until Steve was showered, dressed, and had inhaled his bacon sandwich before bringing the subject up.

 _“I got you something,”_ Bucky signed before taking the gift out from where he’d stashed it behind the couch cushion and handing it over.

Steve’s face lit up like the Christmas tree.

“Bucky…” he said as he took it carefully, sky-blue eyes wide and happy.

 _“It’s not much,”_ signed Bucky. _“I didn’t know if we were doing presents, but I wanted to give you something…”_

Steve leaned forward and kissed him briefly on the mouth, grinning as his long slender fingers ripped off the wrapping paper. Bucky chewed his bottom lip nervously as the wrapping fell away to reveal a CD, the front sleeve plain with ‘Stevie’s Songs’ written in Bucky’s scrawl written in black ink. Steve glanced up at him with a raised eyebrow.

 _“I know it’s a weird thing to give to somebody who’s Deaf,”_ Bucky told him, _“but these all have really great bass lines that you’ll be able to feel, and I’ve included all of the lyrics to the songs so you can read them as they play. They all mean something…”_

He was cut off as Steve surged forward and wrapped his arms around Bucky’s neck, hugging him tightly.

“Thank you,” Steve murmured into the soft wool of Bucky’s sweater.

Bucky sighed with relief and pulled Steve close, arms around that skinny little back, breathing in the familiar scent of his boyfriend. God, but Steve always smelled so damn good.

“I have something for you too,” Steve said aloud as he pulled away and slid from the couch.

Bucky watched him retreat down the hallway to the bedroom, his body swamped in that dark red oversized sweater that Bucky had been sure must have belonged to a large and attractive muscular boyfriend that Steve thankfully never had. A minute later, Steve appeared with a sketch book, padding back to the couch and passing it over.

 _“I’m sorry it isn’t wrapped,”_ Steve signed. _“I wasn’t sure if I should give it to you. I wasn’t sure if you’d like it.”_

Bucky opened the sketchbook and leafed through the pencil drawings. The first few pages, Bucky recognised as things from inside the bookstore where he first saw Steve – the ornate metal chair legs, Connie’s earrings, the lip of a coffee cup. They changed about six pages in and Bucky immediately recognised the overlapping tiny titanium plates that made up the fingers of his prosthetic, wrapped gently around the handle of his coffee cup. He recognised his eyes, drawn in such vivid detail, forehead creased in concentration, and he recognised the curve of his own mouth and the way Steve had drawn Bucky’s lower lip snagged between his teeth.

This was what Steve was good at, what his entire exhibit a few weeks ago had been based on – seeing the minutiae, the tiny details of everything. And he’d dedicated almost an entire sketchbook to Bucky.

 _“It’s beautiful,”_ he signed when he could finally tear his eyes from the pages.

Steve smiled, relieved.

“Really?”

_“Yes. I love it.”_

Bucky set the sketchbook to the side and took Steve’s face in both hands, watching those gorgeous eyes close lightly as Steve leaned into his touch. He had no idea how he’d managed to bag the world’s most beautiful and talented guy, but he knew that he loved Steve Rogers with all his damned heart.

~

Bucky hadn’t honestly expected anything from Sarah. He watched and grinned as she gave Steve the quilt she’d been sewing from old baby clothes over the last few months, now finished and stuffed, a patchwork labour of love. Sarah also gave her son a dark brown teddy bear wearing a small, ravaged button-down shirt which seemed to be a source of great amusement to Steve for reasons unknown to Bucky. He watched Sarah grinning as Steve laughed so hard that tears rolled down his face and he had to hold his sides. Bucky just shook his head, bemused until Sarah beckoned him to come over.

“I, er…I got Nancy Wilson to help me put this together,” she said, holding out a small rectangular gift, pristinely wrapped in silver paper.

“Sarah, you didn’t have to…”

“Oh shush,” she murmured, settling back against her pillow. “Just open it.”

He glanced at Steve who raised an eyebrow and shrugged, obviously no wiser than Bucky as to what the gift might be. His fingers fumbled slightly with the precise folds of the wrapping as he dug in and tore it open.

It was a photograph, black and white in a silver frame. The picture had obviously been taken by Sarah at Thanksgiving when the boys hadn’t been looking – they were standing in the doorway of the kitchen, both covered head to toe in flour and wearing identical looks…like the other was the most amazing thing they’d ever seen, fingers lightly brushing as they went to pass each other.

“I’m afraid I was a little sneaky that day,” Sarah continued with a smile, “but you were both so cute, that I couldn’t help it.”

Bucky felt like crying. Hands down, his gifts from Steve and Sarah Rogers were the best he’d ever had – not expensive or showy, but personal, thoughtful, beautiful. Leaning forward, he gently hugged her and placed a kiss on her cheek.

“Thank you, Sarah.”

He passed the photo over to Steve who scanned it thoroughly, his eyes getting a little watery again, and this time not from laughter.

“Ma…” Steve said quietly, squeezing her hand.

Sarah just shook her head weakly and smiled, adjusting the nasal canula that supplied her oxygen. Bucky squeezed her other hand gently.

“I’ll put it next to my bed,” he said, looking over at Steve with a grin. “So it’s the first thing I see when I wake up in the morning.”

Sarah chuckled and Steve rolled his eyes good-naturedly, smiling at Bucky from the other side of his mother’s bed. Moments later, Sarah had fallen asleep again so they left the room quietly, heading into the living room to wrap up in Steve’s new quilt.

Christmas dinner was leftover pepperoni pizza from the night before, but Bucky didn’t care as he ate his slice whilst watching The Grinch, Steve snuggled up into his side and the fire crackling, warming them up, tree lights twinkling merrily.

It wasn’t what he was used to, admittedly – before the age of fourteen, Bucky had spent Christmas with his parents and sister, waking up to a mountain of gifts under the tree, watching his dad make lunch as his mom helped her kids put together all their stuff, the four of them eating turkey and stuffing and plum pudding with brandy cream before crashing together in a semi-comatose state on the couches to watch old movies. After they died, Christmases at his foster home were busier and gifts were fewer but it was no less filled with love. He’d been lucky, and even now Bucky might not have been surrounded by people or being stuffed full of Aunt Helen’s garlic and rosemary lamb and roast potatoes, but he was with Steve and he was happy. That’s all that mattered.

It was about four in the afternoon when the doorbell went, setting off Steve’s pager and making them both jump. They had been happily entwined on the couch, dozing in the warmth with the TV flicking in the background, but now Bucky was on his feet and Steve was blinking sleepily as he sat up on the couch.

 _“Who the hell could that be?”_ Steve signed.

Bucky shrugged in response as he padded over to the door and wrenched it open, ready to tell carol singers to fuck off. He didn’t expect the excitable fur ball that was Lucky to jump on him in the next second.

“MERRY CHRISTMAS!”

Natasha and Sam were standing there, both holding full paper grocery bags and grinning insanely at Bucky as he tried to fend off the dog that was currently trying to lick his face.

“Jesus fucking Christ…” Bucky cursed.

Natasha made casual look gorgeous as usual, dressed warmly but comfortably in a cashmere sweater and leggings, but Sam was wearing the most terrifyingly hideous Christmas sweater that Bucky had ever seen in his life.

“Did you lose a bet or something, Wilson?”

Sam grinned at him.

“Watch your mouth, Barnes, or I swear to god I won’t let you have any of this honey roast turkey that my mama sent over for you guys.”

“It’s apparently his best Christmas sweater,” Natasha chipped in, stepping into the apartment to give Bucky a one-armed hug.

“It’s fucking awful is what it is!”

“That’s it – no turkey for you, Robocop!”

Bucky grinned as he let them both in and closed the door behind them. Lucky had already moved on to Steve, who had leapt off the couch immediately to throw his arms around the dog’s neck and scratch him behind the ears.

“So…to what do we owe the pleasure?” Bucky asked as he took the grocery bag from Sam and followed Nat into the kitchen.

His friend set her bag down on the counter and turned to smile at him as she began to unpack.

“Well, we figured that you guys wouldn’t be having a real dinner this year,” replied Natasha as she set a carton of parsnips on the counter. “Sam said that Steve and his mom usually ate at the Wilson’s house at Christmas but obviously with Sarah being bed-bound…”

“So you brought dinner to us?” Bucky asked, a smile spreading over his face.

“Well, Sam and I refused to let you have just pizza on Christmas Day.”

“How did you…?”

He trailed off as Natasha raised her eyebrow at him and shook his head. She knew him better than anyone – of course she’d figured out the pizza.

Bucky enveloped his best friend into a hug, holding her tightly.

“You’re awesome, you know that, right?”

“Yeah,” she replied, “but you’re awesome too. I don’t know many guys who would give up Christmas dinner to stay and eat pizza with their boyfriend whilst helping to take care of their dying mother.”

Bucky shrugged and held her at arm’s length.

“Well, he’s worth it. And thanks for bringing Lucky – Stevie kinda loves that dog.”

Natasha chuckled.

“Yeah, Clint said.”

“Was the elf costume Clint’s idea too?”

“Well it sure as hell wasn’t mine!” Natasha replied.

The containers of food were still warm, so Bucky stashed them into the oven for later before moving back into the living room where Steve was still petting the dog, grinning from ear to ear. Bucky wondered if he could maybe convince Clint not to give this Lucky away to a new home, if maybe he could keep the dog and give him to Steve. The guy might not have ever taken care of a dog before, but Bucky was sure he’d learn quickly and love the animal like family.

“So,” Sam said from his place on the couch, signing as he spoke. “I’ve got one question for you guys.”

“What’s that?” asked Bucky.

Sam’s grin grew huge and mischievous as he looked from Bucky to Natasha, and finally to Steve.

“Do you wanna build a snowman?”

~

“Natasha, what the fuck is that?!”

Bucky looked totally scandalized as he gestured toward the snowman sitting out in the park across from Steve’s apartment building.

She put her hands on her hips and gave him an exasperated look.

“It’s a dick and balls, James. What does it look like?”

Bucky brushed his hair out of his face and glared at the strategically-placed carrot and two chunks of coal at the bottom of the snowman.

“Those are supposed to be his eyes and nose and, besides, there are children playing out here!”

One of Natasha’s favourite things in the world was teasing Bucky and she made it a point to do so at every available opportunity. She shrugged gracefully, unrepentant.

“Sex ed is a sham these days. I’m doing them a favour.”

Steve started laughing the second he saw the well-endowed snowman and the cold air quickly made his lungs tighten until his giggles turned into breathy wheezes. His fingers were freezing and he fumbled with his inhaler before taking two puffs of medicine from the dispenser.

Sam looked up from the impressive set of breasts he was currently sculpting onto his snowlady and nodded at Steve.

“Bucky, I think your boy is getting too cold. Maybe you need to get over there and warm him up.”

Bucky was so gorgeous that he almost took Steve’s breath away again when he cut his eyes from Sam and regarded Steve. His cheeks and nose were pink from the icy air and there were snowflakes dusting his hair, clinging to the dark strands. He suddenly whipped his coat open and swooped over to Steve with a mischievous glint in his eye, signing

_“Don’t worry, baby! I’ll keep you warm!”_

Steve squealed and tried to run but Bucky quickly squished the smaller man to his chest and wrapped him tightly in his coat from his waist to the top of his head. He could feel Bucky laughing as he tried to squirm free but it was obvious he wasn’t going to beat his muscular boyfriend in a contest of strength, so Steve decided to play dirty. He sagged in Bucky’s grasp, pretending to give up and then shoving his freezing hands under Bucky’s soft sweater without warning.

The skin under his fingertips was deliciously warm and he ran his cold fingers all over every inch of Bucky he could reach. Suddenly his head was uncovered as Bucky fell backwards into the snow in an ungainly attempt to escape from Steve’s clutches. The brunet was shivering and his eyes were wide as he stared up at Steve who smiled evilly and waggled his fingers in the air. A goofy grin spread across Bucky’s face and he threw a handful of snow at Steve.

_“You look so sweet and innocent but you are really a demon.”_

Steve huffed in amusement as he prowled over to where Bucky lay in the snow, propped up on his elbows, spread out like a sexual buffet. When he slid astride him, Bucky’s hands automatically came up to rest on his hips and he pulled Bucky up into a sitting position by the lapels of his snow-encrusted pea coat. Steve locked eyes with his boyfriend and deliberately took his time leaning in to nip at his mouth, licking deliberately across Bucky’s bottom lip. He pulled back a tiny bit and whispered “You have no idea.” against Bucky’s parted lips.

Bucky’s eyes instantly blazed with heat and Steve saw his sinful mouth form the words:

“Then show me, Stevie.”

Steve didn’t even feel the wet snow soaking into his jeans. The only thing he was aware of was Bucky’s warm breath against his skin, his half-hard dick trapped in between them, and Bucky’s hand tangled in his hair as they both leaned in for a kiss. The chemistry between them had been like this since the first time they locked eyes across the coffee shop and it had only become stronger as they grew closer. Steve’s eyes closed when he felt Bucky’s tongue trace the seam of his lips and he opened his mouth and curled his tongue around Bucky’s. On the verge of whimpering, Steve was seriously considering abandoning Sam and Nat to their R-rated snow people and pulling Bucky up to the apartment for Round Two of holiday sex when well-packed snowballs hit them both. Steve gasped aloud as snow slid from his neck down the back of his jacket and through wide, shocked eyes he saw Bucky’s hair covered in white as well. They both turned quickly to see Sam and Nat falling all over themselves laughing.

“Sorry boys! I didn’t have a hose handy to spray the two of you off and you were attracting an audience! Sam wanted to sell tickets but I thought this would be more entertaining! Who needs anatomically-correct snowmen when you guys are giving a thorough sex ed demonstration right out here in public?”

Sam was busy signing through his laughter as Nat was speaking, so he didn’t notice Steve surreptitiously scoop up a handful of snow when he rolled off of Bucky to kneel on the ground. With the snowball hidden beside him, he raised an eyebrow at Sam.

“You are going to regret that so much, Samuel.”

Sam struck an arrogant pose, looking playfully down his nose at Steve. The effect was only slightly ruined by the terrifyingly ugly Santa sweater.

_“Oh that’s how it is?”_

Steve rose slowly to his feet holding the snowball and suddenly whipped it at Sam with surprising speed. He might be small but Steve had deadly accurate aim and a strong arm and the snowball exploded in Sam’s face. Steve saw Bucky bracing his hands on his knees in hysterics and Nat covered her mouth with both hands, shrieking, as Sam sputtered and wiped frantically as his face. When Sam could see again, Steve grinned sweetly.

 _“Oh, that’s how it is. But thanks for making me look good in front of my boyfriend,”_ he signed.

 _“Oh hell no, Rogers! I’m coming for you now!”_ Sam signed before scooping up more snow and Steve dove for cover behind a tree, pulling Bucky with him.

Before long, snowballs were flying through the air as Bucky and Steve teamed up against Nat and Sam. Natasha pelted Bucky over and over again until she was laughing too hard to continue and Sam didn’t stand a chance against Steve. By the time they stumbled back into the apartment, they were absolutely covered in snow from their heads to their feet and numb with cold.

Nancy Wilson, who had arrived only a half hour after her son on order to sit with Sarah for a while, took one look at them and wordlessly pointed to Steve’s room and then pointed at Nat and Sam and then pointed to the door. Even the normally rambunctious Lucky looked appalled at their dishevelled state.

Sam grinned.

_“I think we’d better go change into something dry. Do you guys want to watch some Christmas movies in a little while?”_

Bucky was busy removing his boots in the foyer, so Steve nodded.

_“Yeah I have to give Ma her medicine but we can meet back down here in an hour or so and put on ‘Elf’ or ‘A Christmas Story’”._

Sam and Natasha gave a wave as they walked out the door, followed by Nancy but Steve caught her sleeve as she passed and pulled her into a hug.

 _“I don’t know what I would have done without you and Sam. Thank you so much for everything.”_ he signed.

Nancy tenderly brushed melting snow out of Steve’s golden hair and her dark eyes brightened.

 _“We will always be here for you, sweet pea. I love you, you know? Your mama and I have been so lucky to watch you boys grow up to be good men. I’m so proud of both of you and so is Sarah.”_ She smiled gently. _“While you children played outside, I opened the window in her room a crack and we could hear you laughing all the way from across the street. She might be stuck in that bed but she was laughing with you when I told her what was going on out there. She rests easier knowing you are happy.”_

Emotion overwhelmed him and tears pricked his eyes when he tried to respond and Nancy pulled him into another comforting hug and kissed his cheek. When she pulled back, she flashed a teasing grin at Steve.

_“Your mama is sleeping now, so you probably need to change out of those clothes and get warm so that you don’t catch a cold. I don’t imagine you will need my help right now, so I’m going to take off. I’ll see you later, sweetie.”_

She winked at them as she shut the door behind her and Steve felt himself flush from the top of his head to the middle of his chest. Bucky walked over to where Steve was standing and ran his fingertips gently over the light freckles that were sprinkled across Steve’s nose and cheekbones. He traced down Steve’s jawline and slid his thumb across his bottom lip.

Sunlight filtering through the frosty windows made Bucky’s eyes sparkle and Steve’s heart clenched painfully as he leaned into Bucky’s touch. He didn’t know if he would ever stop being surprised by how much he loved and wanted Bucky, how he always craved being touched and being held. When Bucky leaned in and nuzzled his neck, Steve shivered all over from his head to his toes and dug his fingertips into Bucky’s hips for support. After a moment, he drew back, grinned in anticipation.

 _“We are wasting time standing here when we could be wet and naked,”_ he signed, and then whooped in surprise when he suddenly found himself tossed over Bucky’s shoulder as his boyfriend stalked toward the bathroom.

With a huff of laughter, he reached down and slapped Bucky on the ass through his wet jeans and jumped when he felt sharp teeth nip his thigh. At another time, Steve might have been grumpy about being carried but, looking down, he had to admit that the view of Bucky’s incredible ass was unparalleled from his vantage point. He was already planning on getting as much of it in his hands as possible when Bucky set his feet on the black and white tile floor in the bathroom and bolted the door behind them.

~~

It wasn’t the hot water spraying on his skin that made Steve moan loudly into the steamy heat of the shower. Bucky’s hands were gliding over his stomach, his metal hand moving up to lightly grip his throat while his flesh hand slid down to stroke his dick. Steve braced himself against the tile with one hand and twisted the other into Bucky’s wet hair as the brunet sucked a mark onto Steve’s shoulder. Fuck, it felt so good — not just the sex but the intimacy and the familiarity between them. He thrust into Bucky’s expert grip and gasped when he twisted his wrist on the upstroke, just the way Steve loved.

“Oh god, Bucky!”

The steam was thick in the air making it difficult to breathe and obscuring everything beyond their slippery embrace. In this moment, it was easy for Steve to block out the rest of the world and pretend that his biggest problem was that he couldn’t get his hands and tongue on his boyfriend the way he wanted to from this position. He turned in the circle of Bucky’s arms and pressed against him, leaving a trail of unhurried open-mouthed kisses all over Bucky’s neck, licking the water droplets that beaded up on his boyfriend’s golden skin. As he moved his mouth over every part of Bucky he could possibly reach, he ran his hands over Bucky’s ribs down to his waist before tracing the hills and valleys of his muscles back up to his chest and brushing his fingertips lightly over his nipples. He leaned down to swirl his tongue over one of the hardened peaks and felt the vibration of Bucky’s groan under his lips. Looking up through long eyelashes, something about the expression on Bucky’s face made Steve stop and lean into his embrace.

After their fight and subsequent “I love yous”, any reservations or insecurities Steve had about their relationship vanished totally and he felt himself falling deeper in love with his boyfriend every day. Sometimes he would look at Bucky and a swell of love would hit him so hard that he didn’t know how his heart could contain it without bursting. Somehow, it always managed to make room though.

Now was no exception with Bucky smiling at him softly, water dripping off of the tip of his nose and his long, dark lashes spiked and wet. His metal hand caressed Steve’s cheek and Steve couldn’t help but snuggle closer and smile back.

“What are you thinking, Stevie?” he asked clearly and slowly.

“That I always manage to end every day loving you even more than when I woke up that morning. And, if I wake in the night, I love you more than when I fell asleep.” he whispered.

Bucky’s eyebrows knit together and he looked like he was going to cry for a moment but he sniffed and let out a watery laugh.

 _“You are perfect, do you know that?”_ Bucky signed. _“I feel the same way, Stevie. I love you too. Always.”_

He pulled Steve in and buried his face in his neck and Steve stroked his broad back and shoulders, skimming his fingers over scar tissue and metal and whispering “I love you” into Bucky’s ear. Swaying ever so slightly side to side, they simply stood entwined together under the spray until the hot water ran out.

~~

Steve was flipping through the channels to find a movie while Bucky fed Lucky his kibble in the kitchen when a flashing light on the wall alerted him that the alarm Sarah’s room was sounding. When the monitor in Sarah’s room went off these days, it didn’t send Steve running to her in a panic. It usually meant that her mask slipped off of her face while she was sleeping. She slept the vast majority of each day, so it surprised him to see her eyes open when he entered her room. His face brightened as he adjusted her mask.

 _“Hi Ma! How are you feeling?”_ he signed.

She smiled back and nodded, her eyes already beginning to close again. Her fingers moved slowly but precisely.

_“I’m good, sweetie. Just tired. Did you have a good Christmas.”_

Since her eyes were closed, he leaned forward and gently kissed the cool skin of her brow and whispered “Yes.”

Her smile grew for a second and then she sighed, falling back asleep. Steve checked her oxygen mask one more time and turned off the lamp beside her bed. Before backing out of the room, he whispered “I love you, Ma.” into the dark.

By the time Sam and Nat returned, Steve was curled up against Bucky and petting Lucky, who was technically not supposed to be on the sofa but seemed to end up there most of the time anyway. So far, Nancy Wilson was the only person who was completely impervious to his canine charm but that was probably the result of driving around town in a Honda Civic that smelled faintly of wet dog for a week after the Christmas Tree Farm.

When the doorbell buzzed, Bucky leaned in and playfully sank his teeth into Steve’s neck before moving out from behind him to answer the door, and earning a lusty little grin in return. Thankfully, Sam had been forced to abandon his nightmarish sweater and he was dressed conservatively in navy sweats. Natasha, who still had damp hair, was wearing an old Air Force shirt that Sam purchased at a Thunderbirds air show when he was 16 and oversized sweatpants, rolled up about four times at the waist.

After waving hello, they snuggled together against the opposite end of the sofa, looking cosy and very much coupled up. Bucky dimmed the lights and slid back in behind Steve and he gladly relaxed into the warmth and solid security of Bucky’s chest as the movie started. Bucky carded his fingers rhythmically through Steve’s hair and somewhere around the time in the movie that Ralphie’s dad proudly displayed his “major prize” leg lamp in the front room window, Steve fell asleep.

It was almost midnight when Sam gently nudged him awake. Steve shook his head to clear it and realized he couldn’t get up because Lucky was draped upside down across his lap. He laughed and scratched the dog’s furry belly, and received a lick on the hand and a goofy doggy smile as a reward.

Sam spoke quietly as he signed.

“I need to take Nat home because she has a rehearsal in the morning and Clint is going to pick up Lucky from her apartment. Wanna walk us down?”

Steve nodded and tuned to wake Bucky, taking a second to admire the way his dark eyelashes fanned over his cheekbones and how lush his lips looked, parted slightly in sleep. He realized that Sam was still watching him with a smug expression and Steve blushed.

 _“You’ve got it bad, don’t you?”_ Sam signed.

 _“You just figured that out?”_ replied Steve before poking Bucky in the ribs to wake him.

Natasha was yawning as she pulled on her coat and Sam attached the leash to Lucky’s collar. Steve and Bucky both sleepily threw on their hoodies and stepped into their unlaced boots. They all rode the elevator down to the first floor lobby in sleepy companionable silence. Steve propped against the wall with his arms around Bucky, who turned into a giant teddy bear when he was tired and was all but limp against him. Steve smacked a loud kiss on his cheek when the elevator doors opened and pulled him through the quiet lobby after Sam, Nat, and Lucky to the front building entryway where the cab was waiting.

The night was clear and crisp and the snow was falling again, tiny flakes covering the world in sparkling white. It crunched under their boots as Sam picked up Lucky and he and Natasha ran for the cab. He opened the door for her and handed Lucky in before turning around, grinning widely at Steve and Bucky, who were snuggled lazily against each other. He pointed at the entryway awning over their heads and yelled “Merry Christmas” before jumping into the warmth of the cab and slamming the door.

When Steve looked up, he saw the green sprig of fresh mistletoe hanging directly above them. He brushed an errant strand of hair out of Bucky’s face.

“Merry Christmas, Bucky,” he whispered.

Bucky wrapped his arms tighter around Steve, pulling him close under the mistletoe.

“Merry Christmas, baby,” Bucky mouthed back, before kissing him softly in the dark.

Steve wasn’t aware of distant church bells faintly ringing in the midnight hour. He only knew the comfort of his boyfriend’s skin, the tickle of Bucky’s hair where it grazed his face, and the intoxicating heat of Bucky’s mouth. The wind picked up and snowflakes danced around them but Steve was wrapped tightly in Bucky’s arms and never felt the cold.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're so sorry. The next chapter is going to be awful and sad. Which is why we thought we'd give them one perfectly happy day on Christmas.


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to my co-author Mellyblue007 for writing the worst bits of this chapter. This was awful and horrible and hard, and we’re both really sorry to have to put you all through reading it. Do yourselves a favour - put the kettle on and make a nice cup of tea, grab a packet of tissues, your cat or dog or bunny or fancy rat or a teddy bear, and then read it. 
> 
> We Episode Four'd you - we're so sorry!

That had been the last good day. It was as though Sarah Rogers had held on just long enough to give Steve one last good Christmas before she started to let go. Her decline had been quick and awful to watch, but Bucky was at least glad that it wasn’t drawn out. It was about the only thing he could be thankful about in that situation, because the rest of it was just horrible.

Bucky might have lost both of his parents at the same time, but they had died instantly, they’d died together, and Bucky hadn’t seen any of it. With Sarah, he felt like he was losing another parent, one he’d only just found but had shown him so much love in such a short space of time. It hurt, but what hurt worse was watching it destroy Steve.

Sarah woke up the day after Christmas with no idea who her son was. She’d known she was dying and thought that Steve was her nurse. She forgot how to sign. Half an hour later and she was lucid again, weakly stroking Steve’s golden hair and calling him her sunshine boy. This happened often over the next few days – she’d fall asleep and sometimes she’d wake up fine, but other times she was confused, and every time she found it increasingly harder to breathe.

Steve never left her bedside, not even to sleep. Bucky did whatever he could – cooking, making coffee, making sure that Steve remembered to take his heart medication, because even though Steve was diligent with Sarah’s, he was getting careless with his own. Bucky slept on the couch just in case either of them needed him through the night.

It was three days after Christmas when he was woken by the shrill beeping of one of the many machines monitoring Sarah’s failing body. Bucky threw back the blanket and got up, padding barefoot to Sarah’s room – she was still sleeping, as was Steve, his hand wrapped tightly around hers. It was her oxygen mask that had slipped again, as it often did when she moved, and the O2 Sats monitor was complaining about her falling oxygen levels. As Bucky leaned over to adjust the mask, Sarah’s eyes snapped open. He barely had time to register shock when her free hand shot up and grabbed his wrist with a surprising amount of strength.

“Bucky…”

Her voice was raspy, wheezing, but her eyes were sharp and keen.

“Yeah, Sarah?” he asked gently, heart still pounding.

“Promise…promise me…you’ll take care…of my baby boy.”

Bucky nodded.

“Of course I will…”

“Promise me,” she repeated fiercely. “He’ll fight you on it…but you have to fight back…promise me…you won’t let him…push you away…”

He couldn’t not do it, not with Sarah looking at him like that, desperate to know that her baby boy would be taken care of.

He nodded again.

“I promise.”

His words seemed to soothe her, because her grip on his wrist eased immediately. Seconds later, her eyes closed again and Bucky replaced her oxygen mask. Sighing, he straightened up and looked at the top of Steve’s blond head, pillowed against his arm on the bed. Bucky wanted to move him, to pick him up and take him to bed so that his back wouldn’t hurt in the morning, but he knew that Steve would be angry if he did.

Instead, he stroked his boyfriend’s hair gently and left the room to lie awake for the rest of the night, wondering how the hell he was going to carry Steve through this.

~

Steve held his mother’s limp hand in his own. The sun outside the window was setting and the gray clouds turned golden at the edges, teasing hints of the sunshine and blue skies that lay far above the heavy curtain of snow clouds. It had been over a day since Sarah opened her eyes last, smiled sweetly at the sight of her only son sitting by her side, and then closed them once more. As her breathing became slower and more laboured, Steve took deeper breaths of his own as if trying his hardest to breathe for her.

He hadn’t left her side for days, sleeping in the chair beside her bed for long hours until his body creaked and protested painfully when he stood to stretch. He had half-expected Bucky to try and drag him off to sleep once or twice but he hadn’t and Steve appreciated that his boyfriend knew how important it was for him to be close to Sarah. It was all he could do now.

God, he felt so helpless watching her chest rise and fall, watching her brow furrow in pain or distress, and being forced to endure the horror of waiting for the inevitable - because Sarah’s death was inevitable now. It had been so easy to live in denial up to this point and hope for a miracle, to secretly pray for just one more week or even a day with her so that he didn’t have to face a lifetime without her. Watching her struggle over the last twenty four hours had changed his mind though and he felt ashamed of selfishly wishing to prolong her life.

As the last of the light faded and Sarah’s room filled with soft shadows, Steve began to let her go. She could no longer open her eyes, and Steve had no idea if she could hear him but he had to try. He couldn’t bear the thought that she might be fighting to hold on because he wasn’t ready to lose her. It would have been so like her to do something like that since she had been putting his needs before her own since the day he was born.

He wasn’t used to speaking for long periods of time but there were things he needed to say — things he wanted Sarah to know — and not much time, so he began to talk to her about everything that came to his mind.

“Ma, do you remember when I tried to help with the laundry when I was six?” he began to say, his voice shaky at first, unsure. “You were busy getting change at one of the machines when I tossed a handful of clothes in the machine with all of your white scrubs and you didn’t notice. I remember seeing your face when the wash was finished and all of your uniforms were pink from the red t-shirt that got mixed in and I took off running. I wedged myself under one of the tables and refused to come out for an hour. I remember that I knew it was safe when you finally rolled over on your back and started laughing.”

Steve smiled sadly and tried to warm her small hand between his bigger ones.

“I’ve always wished I could hear you laugh. Your entire face lights up and I imagined it sounding the way wind chimes must sound. Does that even make any sense? I don’t know if anything makes sense anymore.”

He ran his hand through his messy golden hair and cleared his throat. The sky outside was clearing a bit and he thought he could see the twinkling flash of a star every so often between the breaks in the clouds.

“I think I can see a star or two tonight. Oh Ma, do you remember when I was nine and I decided I hated my freckles? I was determined to find a way to get rid of them until you….you ran your fingertip over the bridge of my nose and the top of my cheekbones…and you told me that the freckles were like constellations of stars on my cheeks.”

Steve wiped his hand over his eyes and tried to steady his voice when it quivered.

“You took me outside on the roof and pointed out constellations in the sky and then we went inside to look in the mirror and we found the Little Dipper on my right cheek. Somehow you have always taken my insecurities and turned them into something that I could be proud of instead. Ma…oh god…Ma…what will I do without you?”

He pillowed his head in his arms and wept soundlessly, his small frame shaking with the force of his grief, until he felt a gentle touch on his back. Without even thinking, he turned and buried his face into Bucky’s shoulder and felt strong arms encircle him. Steve could smell his own body wash on his boyfriend’s skin and, for some reason, it was comforting. Bucky rocked him back and forth until he stopped crying and then lovingly kissed his wet cheeks and softly brushed the tears away with his thumb.

 _“Let me get you some tea, okay?”_ Bucky signed and Steve nodded gratefully. Bucky caressed his face one more time and walked out of the room.

Steve sat back down and took a few deep breaths. He lifted Sarah’s hand and gently laid it against his cheek. Smiling a little bit, he glanced at the door before beginning to speak again.

“You were right about him, you know. About Bucky. And about me. I love him and I never stop being amazed that he loves me back. Ma, I never thought anyone would ever love me the way he does and it is simple and scary and amazing and so, so beautiful. Is it crazy that I am starting to believe that he is the one for me and I want to be the one for him too? I think you might have known it before either of us, didn’t you?”

He stole another peek at the door before continuing.

“God, he’s so beautiful. I mean…look at him. He looks like a work of art and, Ma, he is such a good person. Bucky looks like a bad boy but he is so gentle and kind and I just can’t believe that I can reach out and touch him whenever I want. Just running my fingers through his hair or holding his hand feels like some kind of miracle. And he sees me, Ma. Not just what I look like but who I am. And I see him too.”

Steve sat quietly for a moment, still holding his mother’s hand to his cheek.

“I don’t know what I would have done without Bucky. I need him. I wake up needing him and I go to sleep the same way. I don’t think there will ever be a time when I don’t.”

Steve turned his head when light from the hallway crept into the room as Bucky carefully pushed the door open and carried the steaming mug of strong tea with honey to Steve. He knelt by Steve’s chair and stroked his arm while he sipped the tea. The honey soothed his throat and he hummed gratefully. Bucky kissed his temple and stood to leave but Steve grabbed his metal wrist with his free hand.

“Bucky,” he whispered, “You know I love you, don’t you?”

In the darkness, Steve saw Bucky smile softly.

 _“I know you do. I love you too, Stevie. With my whole heart,”_ signed Bucky.

He ran his hand through Steve’s hair, touched Sarah’s arm softly and then left the room.

Steve talked to Sarah as the night went on. He talked and talked until his voice was raw like it had been scraped over gravel for miles but he kept talking all just in case she could hear him. He wanted her to know she wasn’t alone even for a minute because she never let him feel alone. And he couldn’t help but wonder if she was aware of what was happening and she was scared.

“Because I am going to admit that I am so fucking scared right now that I don’t know how I am going to hold it together.”

Somehow he did though and he just kept talking in between making futile attempts at trying to warm her cold hands. He told her about Lucky trying to eat Clint’s earphones while Clint chased the dog around the apartment and about how he remembered her standing up for him against principals and teachers and therapists and doctors because she knew his potential and Steve was just so grateful.

He was so sorry he hadn’t said it enough in the loudest voice he was capable of because she deserved to hear that every day.

“Oh god, Mama, what am I going to do without you?” Steve murmured once again into the dark room before pulling himself together and telling her that he could see the North Star from her window because it is a clear night.

“Maybe…just maybe we will have a sunny day tomorrow. I know how much you miss the sun.”

It was an hour before dawn when Steve asked Bucky to call Sam and Nancy Wilson and ask them to come down to the apartment. Sarah’s oxygen monitor was going off so frequently that Steve quietly shut the alarm off, biting his lips to keep from sobbing. The pauses between her breaths were becoming longer until Steve felt as though his heart was going to stop with every long hesitation, only to have adrenaline rip through his body when she suddenly gasped in a heavy gulp of air. When Bucky raced out of Sarah’s room to grab his cellphone, Steve knew what he had to do. Falling to his knees beside her bed, he pressed his lips to her hand and said goodbye.

“Ma, I’m so sorry if I’ve been selfish by asking you to fight for so long. I’m sorry if I ever made you feel guilty for having to leave me! I know you never would have chosen this but I know how tired you are. You’ve been through so much…and…you need to rest now. Okay, Mama?” His voice broke and he gasped out a sob before continuing. “I’m going to be just fine. You did an amazing job of helping me find my place in this world and I’m going to be okay. It’s okay to let go. Please don’t hold on for me. Just let go. Just rest.”

Sam and Nancy arrived, still in their pyjamas, a few minutes later and took turns holding her other hand. Bucky stood behind Steve, a comforting presence that gave Steve the strength to continue speaking, even though his voice was nearly gone.

“Bucky said the sky is pink and lavender and gold and bright, bright blue right now, Ma. The sun is coming out and there is not a cloud in the sky. It’s a beautiful day, just like you wanted.”

Her room was bathed in soft morning light when Sarah Rogers died surrounded by those who loved her most with her only son gently holding her hand.

~

“Ashes to Ashes, Dust to Dust…”

On the last day of the old year, Steve Rogers stood dry-eyed, unable to look away from the shiny cherry wood casket, covered with an arrangement of yellow roses, sunflowers, and white daisies. If he looked up, he would have seen Sam signing the priest’s words but he never lifted his eyes. The sharp wind tossed his golden hair into his face and brought colour to his pale cheeks. His hands were completely numb from the cold and he absently thought that Sarah would scold him for forgetting his gloves…except she never would have the chance to do it again.

He focused on a perfect rose in the arrangement that was trembling in the wind and twisted his hands together in front of him. He felt a touch on his shoulder, as light and gentle as a bird’s wing, and he jumped and looked up into Bucky’s beautiful tear-filled eyes. His lashes were spiked and wet and his eyes looked darker than usual against his pale skin. When he looked back on his mother’s burial one day, Steve wondered if these small details would be what he remembered most: the perfect flower…Bucky’s eyes…his own freezing hands.

A cold finger touched his cheek and he jolted back to reality, blinking in shock. Bucky briefly held his upper arms and looked into his eyes. He almost looked like he was in pain as he started to sign.

_“Stevie, it’s time. I’m so sorry. They want to know if you want a moment before…”_

Bucky’s hands faltered and stopped and he bit his bottom lip, looking completely helpless. Steve understood anyway. He had avoided thinking about this moment since the day Sarah was diagnosed with cancer. He took a deep breath and nodded sharply and Bucky went to speak with the priest.

He didn’t notice that the rest of the mourners had respectfully stepped back away from the gravesite as he forced his rubbery legs to carry him over to his mother’s final resting place. He placed his palms flat against the shiny polished lid and closed his eyes. The feeling of the wood beneath his palms brought him out of his haze and the numbness cleared from his mind. This was it. This was really happening and he couldn’t stop it.

His breath shuddered in and out as he felt the panic rise in his chest and tears rolled down his face and fell on the casket. This was the last time in all the years left to him that he would ever be with his mother and he didn’t know what to say, what to do. When they lowered the coffin into the ground and covered it with earth, he would be alone.

Oh God.

Steve bent at the waist and pressed his forehead to the wood and a ragged sob escaped before he bit his lips until he tasted blood. If only everyone would just leave him here and go home to their families. He would just stay because his only family in the world was right here and he couldn’t abandon her to the dark.

A kind hand stroked up and down his back as he wept and he realized that Bucky was on one knee beside him. He turned and threw his arm around Bucky’s shoulder, burying his face into his other hand.

“I can’t…I can’t…Bucky…please.”

Bucky stood up and held him close and let him cry into his wool pea coat. When Steve finally drew back, he saw Father Ryan waiting with concern in his eyes. Steve squeezed Bucky’s hand tightly as he nodded.

Father Ryan gestured to some men who had been standing quietly off to the side and they began the task of lowering the coffin into the snowy ground. When they were finished, they stepped away. Father Ryan began speaking again and the mourners stepped forward to pay their last respects and place a handful of soil into the grave.

Steve stood clinging to Bucky with his knees shaking. Every handful of dirt that hit Sarah’s coffin felt like a knife in his heart. After Sam, accompanied by Natasha, and Nancy offered their heartfelt condolences and walked toward the line of cars that had followed the here’s to the cemetery, only Bucky and Steve were left.

Steve straightened his shoulders and took a deep breath before kneeling on one knee by the hole in the ground. He picked up a handful of soil, and closed his eyes as he let it trickle through his slender fingers into the open grave.

When he opened them, he stood and looked down at the arrangement of roses on his mother’s coffin, now covered in dust and dirt. The first tiny snowflakes twirled as they fell from above and the wind picked up sharply. Bucky was shivering beside him, his dark hair tousled and loose around his face and his coat sprinkled with icy white flakes. Standing slowly, Steve took one last look around him.

“I promise I will be back, Ma. I love you. I miss you so much already and I hope you are happy wherever you are.”

He pressed a shaky kiss to the tips of his fingers and whispered “Goodbye.”

~

 _“We don’t have to go, you know,”_ Bucky signed as Steve walked back into the living room, straightening the collar of his shirt. _“We can go to Time Square instead to watch the ball drop, or we can just stay here and watch a movie. They would understand.”_

Steve looked at him blankly for a moment before shaking his head. The day Sarah died, Steve had asked him if they could go to Helen’s for New Year’s Eve. Bucky had agreed, but warned him that the house would be stuffed full of kids and former foster siblings and their children, and possibly a couple of dogs, and a lot of well-wishers from the neighbourhood – it would be busy and bustling and claustrophobic, but Steve had insisted that he needed to be around people and Bucky trusted his boyfriend with his own state of mind.

All the same, he felt the need to make sure before they left the house – it had been an emotional day with the funeral and Steve might have changed his mind by now. Bucky knew that he would have.

 _“Its fine,”_ Steve responded. _“Besides, I’ve not met any of your family yet and this is the best opportunity.”_

Bucky nodded and stepped forward, pulling Steve into his arms and holding him tightly, pressing kisses into that soft gold hair.

They had changed out of their funeral suits and into more appropriate casual attire for a New Year’s Eve gathering. Since Bucky had started staying at the Rogers’ apartment, Steve had taken to stealing his sweaters, sitting around the place swamped in an excess of soft wool and looking adorable as all hell. Today though, Steve had reverted back to his regular clothes – a button-down shirt and navy sweater that was his own size. Somehow, he looked even smaller in his own clothes than he did in Bucky’s.

They didn’t talk much as they made their way to Helen’s, Bucky spending the entire journey with his arm wrapped reassuringly around Steve’s shoulders and Steve’s head pillowed on his chest, just over Bucky’s heart. It was like they were both in a bit of a daze, and before they knew it they were approaching the three storey gothic Victorian house, its grass garden out front strewn with bikes and scooters and a Buzz Lightyear upside down in a flowerbed.

They climbed the five steps up to the porch and Bucky pulled Steve to a stop beside him, turning his boyfriend so that they faced each other.

 _“Last chance to back out,”_ Bucky signed.

A ghost of a smile passed over Steve’s face.

 _“I’m okay,”_ he replied.

Bucky inhaled deeply and knocked loudly on the door, hoping that it would be heard over the din. As a shadow appeared behind the glass of the front door, he gasped Steve’s hand and squeezed it tightly.

Aunt Helen looked exceptional as usual, beaming at them both from the doorway. She was in her fifties but looked healthy and youthful, her dark hair worn long and straight, her dress was perfect condition vintage, and her smile warm. Helen took a step forward and pulled Bucky into a hug, her head barely reaching to his chin.

“Hey, sweetheart,” she murmured.

“Hi, Aunt Helen,” he replied, not letting go of Steve’s hand as he hugged her back.

She held onto him for a moment before drawing back and turning to the small blond figure by Bucky’s side.

“And you must be Steve,” she declared, enunciating her words clearly.

Up until that point, Bucky didn’t honestly have any idea how Steve would react to his foster family, but he smiled as Steve’s eyes widened when Helen pulled him into a hug that rivalled Bucky’s own. Steve stiffened, but after a couple of seconds, Bucky saw him sag forward into Helen’s arms and return her embrace with a shaky sigh.

They were all pretty amazing with him – Rebecca hugged Steve even more tightly than Helen had, and she and a couple of the older kids had even learned a little basic ASL so they could talk to him. A couple of the little ones took it upon themselves to bring Steve plates of food and cans of soda, and Bucky saw with relief that Steve began to smile a little easier as time passed.

They were all great kids and Bucky was a firm favourite, especially with the younger ones who jumped on his back and hung around his neck and badgered him to play the piano.

“C’mon Bucky, please?”

“Y’did it last year!”

“Yeah, c’mon. Play us something.”

Bucky looked at Steve helplessly but his boyfriend just smiled and shrugged at him. He sighed and stood up.

“Alright, alright,” Bucky told the kids, who all started to cheer. “But I’m not playing the damn thing all night.”

He leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss to the top of Steve’s head, brushing his hair back lightly.

“I’ll be right back, okay?”

“Okay,” Steve murmured in reply.

Bucky felt horribly guilty leaving Steve on his own, but he told himself that he’d only play one song, two at the most, and then be back with his boyfriend for the rest of the night. It didn’t happen that way in the end.

Whit asked for some Nina Simone like the classy kid that she was, and Liu, who was five, wanted three renditions of ‘If You’re Happy and You Know It’, which led onto everyone else chipping in with a song for him to play. Over and hour later, Bucky finally glanced back in Steve’s direction, only to find his boyfriend was no longer sitting where Bucky had left him. In fact, Steve wasn’t anywhere to be seen.

“Where’s Steve?” he asked his sister who passed by nonchalantly with a plate of smoked salmon balanced on her hand.

Rebecca frowned.

“I dunno…” she replied, casting a glance around the room.

“Didn’t you think to keep an eye on him while I was entertaining the masses?”

His sister raised an eyebrow at him.

“Bucky, he isn’t an infant!” Becca retorted. “I wasn’t aware he needed looking after.”

He sighed heavily and passed a hand over his hair. Bucky had only meant to leave him alone for ten minutes at the most, but instead had abandoned Steve for over an hour when they had just buried Sarah earlier that day.

Steve wasn’t in any of the bathrooms, or lying down in anybody’s bedroom. Bucky was beginning to think that Steve had left and gone home when he bumped into Helen on the landing, carrying two cups of hot, spiced cider and a thick quilt.

“You might want to check the front porch,” she said kindly, handing the things over to him. “It’s getting kinda cold out there now.”

“Thanks, Aunt Helen,” Bucky replied, giving her a brief kiss on the cheek before heading down the stairs to the front door.

Steve was sitting on the top wooden step with his back against a support beam, arms wrapped tightly around his body as he looked up at the dark night sky, snow falling and tinted apricot by the street lights as it fluttered to the ground.

He must have felt Bucky’s footfalls, because he turned around before Bucky was even two steps out of the front door, closing it behind him with his foot.

“Hi…” Steve said quietly.

“Hey, baby.”

Bucky set the two cups of cider on the porch and squeezed in behind Steve, knees on either side of that skinny ribcage as he wrapped the thick quilt around them both. The tips of Steve’s ears were red and freezing cold when Bucky pressed a kiss to one of them. He accepted Bucky’s offering of hot cider and leaned back against his chest with a sigh.

“You were right,” Steve said dully. “Too many people. I thought it would take my mind off of Ma, but…I think it was a mistake.”

Bucky kissed Steve’s temple again and nodded. There wasn’t anything he could do or say that would help, so he didn’t bother. He just buried his nose into that soft gold hair and held onto Steve tightly, pressing kisses to the side of his head.

He remembered what it was like, burying his parents, and it hadn’t been any easier this time around. He’d stood there in the cold by the open graveside with absolutely no idea what to do when Steve completely broke down over Sarah’s coffin. Bucky had never felt heartbreak like it.

Of course it had been awful when his own parents had died leaving them with no family or money, but he’d never had to suffer through a funeral. There had nobody else, so they had been cremated by the state – no service, no coffins, no mourners except for Bucky and his little sister. They had been ripped from their home, left all their belongings behind, dragged to live with perfect strangers, but they’d always had each other. Young James and Rebecca Barnes clung to each other, shared their grief and somehow it didn’t ever seem quite as bad as it should have been.

Steve didn’t have that luxury – he had to suffer it all alone.

Bucky didn’t understand how Catholics could do it – being buried – all alone in that cold, bare grave for the rest of eternity. Bucky had decided that afternoon that he would rather be cremated and have his ashes scattered at sea or blown away on the breeze. Anything but a lonely, frozen grave.

It seemed that Steve had no more tears left to cry by this point, sitting on the front porch in the snow while all around them in the neighbourhood people were celebrating the approaching New Year. This was a time where people were supposed to be happy, to make new beginnings and new memories but this time it just felt bleak and empty.

Bucky heard the voices from inside the house counting down the final ten seconds until midnight, and then above them, over the city of New York, the sky exploded in a flurry of colours. Red and green and gold shot through the heavens and rained down with the snow, beautiful and bright. Steve leaned back into him and rested the back of his head against Bucky’s shoulder as he tilted his face up to watch them.

“Happy New Year,” Steve said mechanically.

“I hope so, baby,” replied Bucky, knowing that Steve couldn’t hear, but would feel his chest rumble as he spoke. “I’d do anything in the world to make you happy again, anything to see you smile and hear you laugh. I can’t replace her, Stevie, but I’m here for you. I swear I’ll make this year happy for you again.”

Bucky, held his boyfriend closer, wrapping the quilt tighter around them as the fireworks continued to explode in the sky and people in the streets whooped and sang Auld Lang Syne.

“I love you.”

He just hoped his love would be enough.


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IT’S HEEEEEEEEEERE! Although you’re probably not going to thank us once you read it. So, here’s the deal - normally, I write the Bucky bits and mellyblue007 writes Steve, and then we bring them together at the end and post the chapter up. Except, last week, shit happened. Fanmail broke and ate most of our messages, my lovely co-author lost her home internet, we had issues with emails and wifi lounges and broken charger cables and generally just hectic and shitty weeks.

When the medical supply company came to pick up the monitors and hospital bed from Sarah’s bedroom, Steve locked himself in his own room, leaving Bucky and Nancy Wilson to deal with the paperwork and setting Sarah’s room back the way it had been before.

Before. Steve would have paid any price to go back to 'before' - before the cancer, before he had to stand in front of a grave that looked like an open wound in the snowy ground, before he spent hours wandering around the still apartment that used to positively whirl with activity.

Long after the movers for the supply company left, he lay on his bed, wrapped in his mother’s blankets. They still carried her scent and he could close her eyes and pretend that she was with him. Every so often, a shadow blocked out the light from the hallway that spilled under the door and he knew that Bucky was probably standing there, hesitating and debating on whether he should intrude. He thought about calling for Bucky to come in but he never did. After a moment, the shadow always faded away and Steve closed his eyes once more. Exhausted, he fell asleep, wrapped in the faint embrace of his mother’s scent.

The next morning, Steve woke to the feeling of gentle hands in his hair. When he opened his eyes and flinched away from Bucky’s touch, he felt a moment of guilt at the look of pain that touched his boyfriend’s beautiful face but Bucky took a deep breath and smiled slightly.

_"How are you this morning? You slept for a long time."_

Steve shrugged

_"I’m tired. I don’t know how I feel about anything else."_

Bucky bit his lip and looked away before signing,

_"Nancy is planning to come back in about an hour and help you go through Sarah’s things. She had bequests in her will for her clothing and bedroom furniture to go to the women’s shelter but Nancy thought you would like to pick out anything you would like to keep first. Is that okay?"_

Angry, Steve jumped out of bed and snatched open some drawers, pulling out fresh clothes, slamming them closed.

_"My mom isn’t even cold in her grave and people already have their hands out, trying to take her things!" ___

He wished the whole world would go straight to hell and just leave him alone with his grief. Bucky backed up with his palms out in front of him for a second. His handsome face was carefully blank and Steve thought fleetingly that Bucky looked positively exhausted. 

_"Stevie, it was what she wanted. Nancy is just doing what Sarah asked her to do. If you are not ready for this, of course no one is going to make you do it. Okay? Tell me what you want."_

Steve’s shoulders slumped in defeat but before Bucky could reach out to touch him, he straightened up once more. 

_"It’s what Ma wanted, so let’s get it done. Then maybe everyone will just go away and leave me in peace."_

He spun on his heel and walked to the bathroom, slamming the door behind him. Bucky didn’t follow him. 

_~_

The room was empty, except for dust notes floating in the air and a small pile of Sarah’s belongings occupying two boxes in the corner, two boxes that contained some of Steve’s most precious memories of his mother. He kept all of her photo albums and framed pictures. He had lovingly wrapped his grandfather’s Army hat, ribbon rack, and medals. There were a few items of clothing that he couldn’t bear to part with and the jewellery that she left to him was boxed up to go into the safe. The movers sent by the women’s shelter had been quietly grateful and had taken the clothing and furniture swiftly and professionally after expressing their condolences for Steve’s loss. Steve just nodded and turned away to stare out of the windows at the city outside. 

__Once everyone tactfully retreated from the room, leaving him alone, Steve stood in a shaft of sunlight, looking around the empty room, when suddenly a flash of light startled him and made him blink. He looked up high on the window to see the hummingbird sun catcher that he painted for his mother when he was a little boy. He was sure that the colours were probably not correct but she had loved it all the same and it had been hanging proudly in that same spot for almost twenty years. Season after season, he watched the light that filtered through it drift across her face until it was as much a part of the room as the hardwood floors or the crown molding._ _

__Watching the patterns the colourful little panes of glass cast dance cheerfully on the floor of the empty room, he suddenly felt cold all over. Tears streamed down his face to drip off of his chin but he didn’t bother to wipe them away. Sarah had spent years making her bedroom a warm and comfortable place full of things that were important to her. But now that little glass bird on the window was the last thing of his mother’s that remained. Steve couldn’t take his eyes from it, even when he felt Bucky’s presence behind him._ _

__Helplessly, he turned around with wide, shocked eyes and shook his head._ _

__“It’s like she was never here, Bucky.”_ _

__He stumbled out of the room and slid down the wall in the hallway, covering his head with his arms as if expecting an attack._ _

__“It’s like she was never even here.”_ _

__He felt a light touch on his arm and he let out a sob as he leaned into Bucky’s embrace and buried his face into his neck._ _

__~_ _

__It was all so much worse than Bucky ever expected it to be. He had to go back to school after the New Year and although Steve had been offered some compassionate leave, he’d refused to take it despite Bucky begging him to. Steve had said that he’d rather be busy, to have something to take his mind off it, but ever day that passed since they’d buried Sarah got harder instead of easier._ _

__The worst thing was that Steve didn’t talk to him, closing down instead to the point where everything he did was mechanical, as though he was on autopilot. Steve only ate if food was put in his hand, only slept when he was guided to bed, and everything else was done just because it was what he’d always done._ _

__Bucky tried so hard not to coddle him, to give Steve his space to grieve but all he wanted to do was hold his boyfriend close, to kiss him and stroke him and tell him over and over again how much he was loved. Steve wouldn’t let him do it – he recoiled from Bucky’s touch during the day, getting up and walking away without a word whenever Bucky tried to reach for Steve’s hand or squeeze his shoulder. At night, Bucky would reach for him only to find Steve moving away, right to the edge of the bed so that his knees were hanging off the mattress, outside of the covers and he’d shiver with the cold air instead of curling back into Bucky’s warmth._ _

__It broke Bucky’s heart and he would hastily wipe away the tears that fell as he told Natasha about it. Time and again his best friend would tell Bucky to just give his boyfriend time to heal, that Steve would reach for him again and the two of them would start living their lives once more. Bucky believed her until the second week of January was almost over and Steve came home to the apartment the Bucky shared with Clint, having been unable to stay in the one he’d shared with his mother for twenty four years._ _

__Bucky had been flipping through the takeout menus, hoping to entice Steve with one of his favourites when his boyfriend walked through the door and walked through the apartment, not bothering to take off his shoes or coat, and stopped in front of Bucky._ _

_“Hey baby,”_ Bucky signed, plastering a smile on his face for his boyfriend’s benefit. 

__Steve looked at him blankly, a look that Bucky was staring to become depressingly familiar with._ _

_“I’m going away,”_ Steve told him. 

__Bucky blinked, confused. There had been no pre-amble – just blunt and to the point, and it felt like a slap._ _

_“What do you mean?”_

_“The Met were looking for somebody to escort a piece of art to the Louvre. I volunteered.”_

__“Oh…” Bucky replied aloud._ _

__That didn’t seem so bad, thought Bucky. Perhaps it would do Steve some good to get away for a little while, and Paris…well, every artist’s dream was to go to Paris. He smiled encouragingly._ _

_“That sounds great, Steve. When do they want you to go?”_

_“Saturday.”_

__Bucky’s stomach plummeted, like it had just been filled with a ball of lead - it was already Thursday. He’d expected Steve to say that he was going in a few weeks time, or even a couple of months, but this? This one took the wind out of his sails completely. Bucky barely managed to make his hands work to ask Steve how long he was going to be away for._ _

_“A couple of months, maybe,”_ Steve signed, his face still as blank as a new page in his sketchbook, giving away no hint of his feelings or thoughts about it. 

__If Bucky hadn’t already been sitting down, he would have needed to do so at that moment. Steve was leaving him, going to live in another country for a couple of months, and was only giving Bucky a couple of days to process the information. It wasn’t a discussion – Bucky had always thought that Steve would talk things like this over with him…but then Steve hadn’t been much in the way of talking to Bucky about anything at all since Sarah had died._ _

__He couldn’t find anything to say, resorting to just staring at his boyfriend who continued to look through him. After a moment’s silence, Steve shifted on his feet._ _

_“I’m going home to pack,” he said aloud to Bucky before turning on his heel and walking out of Bucky’s apartment._

__Alone and feeling like he’d just been doused in ice water, Bucky didn’t even try to stop the tears from falling as he took out his phone to text his best friend._ _

**{ Bucky: Steve just told me that he’s leaving for Paris on Saturday and won’t be back for a couple of months :-( }**

__He passed the back of his hand over his eyes and sniffed as he waited for a reply._ _

**{ Natasha: Are you serious? }**

**{ Bucky: Yeah. So much for him coming back to his normal self soon, huh? }**

__It sounded petty and selfish, and Bucky hated himself for it yet he couldn’t help feeling so miserable and dejected. Sarah had told him this would happen, that Steve would try to push him away and that Bucky would have to fight him on it._ _

__The thing was, Bucky had never expected Steve to go as far as retreating to an entirely different continent. Bucky could try his hardest when Steve was in his apartment or living fifteen minutes down the street but what was he supposed to do when Steve was thousands of miles away in France? How could he possibly prevent Steve from pushing away when he was already about as far as he could get?_ _

__Bucky looked down as his phone pinged cheerfully at him._ _

**{ Natasha: He won’t go. It’s far too sudden – he’ll realise before Saturday that it’s a terrible idea and he’ll not go xx }**

**{ Bucky: I hope you’re right. }**

__~_ _

__He’d honestly believed that Steve would change is mind over the next few days, right up until the point where they got out of the cab at JFK airport and Steve began to walk away with his suitcase while Bucky paid the taxi driver._ _

__Steve hadn’t said a single other word on the subject since he’d left Bucky’s apartment to pack his suitcase for the trip. He’d come back after a few hours, eaten a slice of pizza that Clint had ordered in and shut himself in Bucky’s room for the rest of the evening, sleeping as far away from Bucky in the bed as he possibly could. Steve had still been silent about it on Friday evening when he came back to Bucky’s after work, and Bucky had to actually ask him if he wanted company on the way to the airport. Steve had only shrugged in response._ _

__Fighting the impulse to scream in frustration, Bucky all but threw the money at the driver and ran after him, metal fingers closing around Steve’s skinny upper arm and dragging him to a halt._ _

__“Hey!” he said as he turned Steve around to face him._ _

__Several people stared at them as they passed – it couldn’t have looked good with somebody as big and bad-looking as Bucky, roughly spinning around tiny little Steve Rogers by his arm, but Bucky didn’t care. Steve blinked at him._ _

_“Are you really going to do this?”_

_“Do what?”_ signed Steve. 

_“Just get on a plane without talking to me. Without even looking at me, damn it, Steve. I understand if this is something you want to do or something that you need to do, but don’t you think I deserve a little more explanation than what I’m getting?”_

__Steve looked at his feet and shifted his weight slightly. He looked skinnier than usual, the toll of not eating or sleeping properly showing in the sharpness of his chin and the dark hollows under his eyes. The sky-blue eyes that looked back up at him were cold and empty, like they didn’t even belong to the Steve Rogers that Bucky knew and loved so damn much._ _

_“I just can’t do this anymore,”_ Steve signed simply. _“I know this isn’t what you wanted, so just know that you don’t have to wait for me. I understand.”_

__Bucky Barnes’ heart fractured into a thousand pieces in that moment. He took a step closer to his boyfriend, slipped a finger under that pale, sharp chin, and raised Steve’s eyes to look directly into his._ _

__“What in the hell are you talking about?” he asked aloud._ _

__Steve sighed and stepped back._ _

_“I’m going to be gone a while, B-U-C-K-Y,”_ he said, not using his usual name sign which was like a knife in Bucky’s gut. _“You don’t have to wait for me. You can go find somebody else. I’d understand.”_

__His heart fell to bits at that, those fractures splintering and shattering and causing him immense physical pain. If Steve had stabbed Bucky with a knife it probably would have hurt less._ _

__Taking a deep breath and fighting back the tears that threatened to spill over, Bucky reached out and firmly grasped Steve by his upper arms, giving him a short, gentle shake that made Steve look back up at him._ _

__“Now you listen to me, Steven Grant Rogers,” Bucky said slowly, taking care to form every word fully. “You still don’t get it, do you? You’re ‘it’ for me. You’re my end game. I don’t want anybody else in this whole world but you. I love you, and I’m going to be standing right here in this airport, waiting for you when you get back home.”_ _

__He ran a finger gently across Steve’s pale cheek, fully expecting his boyfriend to pull back as he had been doing for the past couple of weeks, but he didn’t. Those big blue eyes closed for a moment and his bony shoulders heaved under his layers of sweaters and bulky coat. When Steve’s eyes opened again and focussed on him, Bucky could have sworn that those long dark lashes were slightly wet._ _

__“Okay,” Steve whispered._ _

__He looked so miserable, just about as miserable as Bucky felt. All Bucky wanted to do was gather that small body up in his arms, to kiss Steve breathless and beg him not to go – he wondered if it would make any difference._ _

__In the end, he didn’t do any of it – he just let Steve walk away, watching the small figure of his boyfriend get even smaller as he headed towards the check in desks, not even glancing back over his shoulder to check if Bucky was still there, watching, waiting, wishing that Steve would turn around._ _

__Bucky didn’t even know how he made it home before he broke down._ _

__~_ _

__Steve calmly checked his luggage and went through security. He waited to board the plane with the other passengers and even had to grab his laptop and carry-on bags and run with everyone else to a different gate when the gate number changed 10 minutes before boarding. Thankfully, he had learned long ago to watch the electronic boards with the flight information since he wouldn’t hear an announcement made over the intercom._ _

__Once he was sitting comfortably in one of the plush First Class seats and the other passengers were in the process of boarding and stowing their luggage, he closed his eyes, intending on trying to relax a bit, only to be confronted with the picture of Bucky as Steve had turned to leave him. He looked positively anguished. He looked angry. He had looked lost. And Steve was the one who put that look on his face._ _

__Steve didn’t even realize that he was clenching the arm rests of the seat, his knuckles turning white under the strain. His eyes flew open and suddenly he was thinking clearly for the first time in days instead of wandering around in a fog._ _

__What the fuck was he doing?! He loved Bucky with all of his heart and he’d just told him that he didn’t have to wait on him. He’d spent the last week cringing away from the comfort of his touch and refusing the support and kindness of his boyfriend. He’d rejected and hurt the man who just gave up weeks of his own life to help Steve take care of his mother. Bucky was everything to Steve: he made Steve laugh with joy and cry from happiness, he’d held Steve’s hand through his gallery opening, he gave Steve his body and had opened his heart up and loved him without asking anything in return. With shame staining his cheeks red, Steve wondered what he had ever done for Bucky, except leave him shocked and heartbroken in the middle of a busy international airport._ _

__It felt like the world was shaking around him and he realized that the last place he needed to be going was Paris. He needed to get the fuck off the plane right NOW and find Bucky and beg him for forgiveness, on his knees if that’s what could fix this. He would never take his boyfriend for granted ever again. He was getting ready to unbuckle his seatbelt and stand up when he realized that the plane was in the process of bouncing down to the end of the runway. With horrified eyes, he watched the scenery fly by as the plane picked up speed and he felt the vibrations from the roar of the engines._ _

__“Oh no. Oh my god, no,” he whispered quietly, as the wheels left the ground and he covered his mouth with a shaking hand so that he wouldn’t sob out loud as New York City fell away as the plane ascended into the clouds._ _

__By the time the jet broke through to the blue sky that almost seared his eyes, Steve knew in his heart that he would be damned lucky if James Buchanan Barnes ever spoke to him again._ _

__~_ _

__“Oh, thank God!” Clint exclaimed as Natasha opened their apartment door. “He’s been sitting here listening to Edith Piaff and glugging paint stripper that’s masquerading as whisky for the past hour now and I honestly don’t know what to do.”_ _

__Clint had woken up to find Bucky sitting on the floor in front of the couch, already the best part of the way down a bottle of the cheapest liquor he could find at the corner store, and he had immediately called Natasha. She looked like she had come directly from rehearsals, her hair pulled back into a tight bun, still in her ballet wrap and leggings. Bucky gave her a watery smile as she stripped off her coat and lowered herself to the floor next to him._ _

__“You said he wouldn’t go…” Bucky told her, his voice slurring more than he would have liked it to. ”You lied.”_ _

__Nat wrapped her fingers gently around the neck of the whisky bottle and Bucky relinquished his liquor silently, allowing her to set it aside._ _

__“I’m sorry,” she said seriously. “I guess I didn’t actually believe him to be as stubborn and as block-headed as Sam always tells me.”_ _

__Bucky hadn’t even realised that Sam had arrived with Natasha until he heard Sam’s deep chuckle from across the room._ _

__“Hey, Wilson,” he said with mild surprise. “Your best friend is an asshole, by the way.”_ _

__“Well, I could have told you that, months ago,” Sam replied as he kicked off his shoes and came to sit on the floor next to Natasha._ _

__Bucky let out a wry laugh and shook his head miserably._ _

__“You know what he said to me at the airport? He said that I didn’t have to ‘wait’ for him. I mean, what does that even mean? Did he honestly think that he means that little to me, that as soon as he’s gone I’m going to go out and fuck the next person that walks past?”_ _

__“James,” Natasha said calmly. “Of course not. It means that his mom just died, and he is hurting more than he ever expected to. And it means that you need to give him a little while to snap out of it because he is going to freak out and think he ruined everything with you when he does.”_ _

__“He’s the love of my fucking life, Nat,” Bucky mumbled in reply, staring hard at the floor._ _

__Bucky didn’t notice the look that passed between his friends._ _

__“James, do you remember that when I met you?” Nat asked him, sliding around to face him, resting her hands in her lap. “You were still kinda messed up over your parents’ death and that was two and a half years later. Steve’s had, what, two weeks? I know you are upset right now and that is okay, but you need to listen to me. That guy is stupidly in love with you. I mean, the way he looks at you makes ME feel sappy, for god’s sake. This is not the end of the world and it might end up being a good thing if you can be patient for just a little while longer. I can’t promise you that he will come home and everything will be okay but I’m willing to bet that it will if you will just give it time.”_ _

__“You really think so?” Bucky sniffed._ _

__Behind him, Clint let out a groan of despair and he buried his head in his hands in frustration._ _

__“For cryin’ out loud, Barnes!” he said loudly. “Any idiot with eyes can see that he fucking loves you, okay?”_ _

__“Clint actually IS an idiot with eyes, so he knows what he’s talking about,” replied Natasha, not missing a single beat._ _

__Bucky couldn’t help but laugh as he brushed away the dampness in the corners of his eyes. He looked up as Sam shuffled up closer and put his hand on Natasha’s shoulder – the way she covered his hand with her own so casually spoke volumes and Bucky wondered why he’d never noticed it before._ _

__“Bucky, I’ve known Steve for my entire life and this is what he does - when he doesn’t know what to do with his feelings, he runs away until he can deal with them,” Sam told him gently. “It is frustrating and sometimes it makes me want to slap him in his fat, stubborn head but he will snap out of it. And when he does, he is going to come running after you just like he did that day at HYDRA.”_ _

__Bucky smiled sadly at that memory. He hoped that Sam was right – that Steve would come around while he was away, that the change of scenery and the different people and the best art in the world would make him feel a little more like his own self. Bucky hoped that Steve loved him enough to come back to him, because Bucky would wait his whole lifetime just to have Steve back in his arms._ _

__~_ _

__Charles de Gaulle Airport was miserably busy but Steve didn’t even notice the people bustling around him as he waited on his luggage. He spotted the nondescript black bag easily, thanks to the piece of bright Christmas ribbon Bucky had tied to the handle._ _

_"It’s a trick I learned from Natasha."_ he had signed after he tied the knot. _"I don’t want you to have a hard time finding your bag, or for someone to take it on accident."_

__Steve’s eyes flooded with miserable tears for what must’ve been the thousandth time since leaving New York. He remembered how Bucky had smiled gently as he signed but he had avoided looking in Steve’s eyes. Bucky’s smile had been slightly wobbly and tight and his hands shook when he tied the knot. Hot tears spilled down Steve’s cheeks as he waited on the porters to carefully unload the valuable painting he was supported to be escorting to the Louvre and he jumped when he felt a gentle hand touch his sleeve._ _

__A young man near his own age was standing beside him with a concerned expression._ _

_"Are you okay?"_ he spoke as he signed. _"You must be Steve. I’m G-A-B-E J-O-N-E-S, your interpreter. I’m so sorry I was late. The god damned scooters and motorcycles are a menace here."_

__Steve scrubbed the back of his sleeve across his face and smiled as he met Gabe’s kind brown eyes, and tried not to look as devastated as he was feeling._ _

_"Hi, Gabe. Yes, I'm Steve, and I’m so sorry about…"_ he gestured vaguely at his face. _"…this. It’s been a rough few weeks."_

__Gabe sat beside him, perched on the edge of the bench._ _

_"Steve, are you okay?"_ he asked again. 

__This time, Steve shuddered and buried his face in his hands. A kind hand patted his back and he looked up and turned to Gabe._ _

_"My mom was buried on New Year’s Eve and I may have just destroyed my relationship with the love of my life,"_ he signed, so fast that his hands were a blur. 

__Instead of being shocked, Gabe merely nodded thoughtfully._ _

_"Tell me. We have time."_

__Once he started, Steve couldn’t stop. He told Gabe about meeting Bucky during his mother’s treatments and the way they danced around each other for a month before finally making a connection. He told him all about how Bucky learned ASL so that he could speak to Steve. Gabe raised his eyebrows at that but he didn’t interrupt. Steve told him about Sarah’s declining health and death and how Bucky was there for him every single step of the way. His fingers trembled as he admitted to his terrible behaviour and his fear that he’d lost Bucky forever._ _

__Gabe sat quietly, looking at Steve’s motionless fingers, when he finished. Steve expected him to be disgusted or tell him that he deserved whatever happened. He didn’t expect him plot smile broadly._ _

_"We can fix this. You are in Paris, Steve, the City of Love!"_ He stood up and pulled Steve to his feet. _"Let’s go grab the stupid painting and deliver it and then we can work on winning your boyfriend back."_

__The small blond found himself smiling hopefully in return._ _

_"Do you think that I have a chance?"_

__Gabe threw open the door to outside and Steve was almost blinded by the golden morning sunlight reflecting off of the wet pavement. Outside, he turned around and glanced at Steve excitedly._ _

_"Anything is possible, my friend."_


	22. Chapter 22

It had been two days since Steve sent Bucky the first text and there had been no reply. After twelve hours, he sent a second text.

**{ Bucky, I’m so sorry. I made a huge mistake. }**

No reply. Eight hours later, while lying in bed with fear gripping his chest and making it tight, he sent a third text.

**{ I know you are furious with me and you have every right to be. I was wrong. }**

No reply. By morning, Steve was in panic mode. He had a free day to explore Paris before reporting to the Louvre with Gabe the next day and he found himself wandering aimlessly, unable to enjoy the famous sights around him. Everywhere he looked, he saw happy couples kissing and holding hands. Everything he saw reminded him of Bucky. He sent 8 frantic texts that day and received no reply. Lying in bed that night, he sent one last message.

**{ Bucky…please. }**

There was no reply.

The next morning, Steve rolled out of bed and stumbled to the bathroom. All night long, he stared at his phone in the hopes that it would light up with a message from Bucky but it remained dark. His reflection in the mirror matched the feelings in his heart exactly — he looked exhausted and miserably unhappy. Dark circles under his eyes made the blue look almost luminescent and his skin was pale and colourless. He quickly ran a bit of product through his hair and dressed in his slender black trousers, and fitted beige sweater, stepped into his boots and grabbed his coat and leather bag.

At the doorway, he stopped and closed his eye for a minute before walking back to his suitcase and opening one of the interior pockets. He pulled out Bucky’s red scarf and wrapped it around his neck. It was soft and warm and comfortable and it smelled like Bucky. Tears filled Steve’s eyes as he stood alone in the hotel room and clutched Bucky’s scarf to his face for a moment. He rocked from side to side, trying to will the empty feeling in his heart to go away.

Suddenly, he felt a buzz in his pocket. He almost ripped his pants in his attempt to snatch the phone out of his pocket and he felt a surge of adrenaline that quickly abandoned him and left him dizzy when he saw the message.

**{ Gabe: I’m in the lobby. They changed the time to 1:00 instead of 9:00. Something about cleaning the frame before it is ready to be installed. Come down and join me for breakfast? }**

Steve clenched the phone so hard, he felt the plastic case give before replying.

**{ I’ll be right down. }**

~

Bucky had been at Natasha’s apartment when he received Steve’s first text message from Paris. Sam had been sitting on the end of the couch with his feet on the floor and Nat tucked neatly into his side with a lap full of Bucky who was curled up over the rest of the seats, his head resting on Natasha’s knees as she ran her fingers soothingly through his hair. On the floor lay Lucky – the one that Steve adored, looking almost as upset as Bucky felt.

His eyes were puffy and red from where he’d furiously scrubbed away tears, and he felt exhausted and miserable, craving any kind of affection from anyone. Bucky had felt lucky that Natasha was a friend who was quite willing to offer him a couch and her support. She hadn’t wanted him to be alone after the debacle with the paint-stripper whisky – unsurprising after the kind of stuff Bucky had done during his recovery from the prosthetic surgery, when the pain had been so bad that he’d thought he would go insane – and so she had suggested that they spend the entire Sunday watching the Lord of the Rings trilogy.

Bucky hadn’t expected to hear anything from Steve, so when his phone message alert sounded off in his jeans pocket, it took him a while to find the energy to fish it out and look at the screen. Once he saw Steve’s name, Bucky sat up like a shot.

**{ Steve: I’m sorry, Bucky. I’m a total jerk and realised too late that I should have got off that plane and come back to you. Can you forgive me? }**

Bucky breathed out, long and hard, and both Sam and Natasha looked at him.

“What is it?”

Bucky looked up from his phone.

“It’s Steve,” he explained. “He says he’s sorry he was a jerk and asks if I forgive him.”

From his spot at the other end of the couch, Sam’s frown deepened.

"Are you going to text him back?”

“I don't know” Bucky replied, seriously.

He'd waited all those long hours for Steve to send him some sign that he'd arrived in Paris, and that he was safe. Now that Bucky had the confirmation he'd so desperately wanted, he didn't know what to do with it.

"He says he's sorry…” he added.

“Yeah," said Sam, "because he's also suddenly found himself alone in a foreign country, realising he's acted like a horrible asshole to everybody, and most of all to you.”

Bucky looked back down at his phone and sighed. 

"The thing is," Natasha added quietly, "You're not okay with that, are you? We all understand how much he's been hurting - nobody as much as you - but that's what's hurt _you_ the most."

Bucky looked at them both and sighed heavily. He knew they were right – he wanted to text Steve back and tell him that he was loved, that he was forgiven, but Bucky was hurt, and he was angry. He certainly hadn’t yet forgiven his boyfriend for walking away from him like he did. Closing down his text screen, Bucky locked his phone and put it back in his pocket.

“I guess you're right," he replied softly. "I am pissed off."

Sam and Natasha glanced at each other.

"Look, we can't tell you what to do," Sam told him. "But he's gone and taken the time out that he wanted in order  to clear his head. Maybe you should do the same - only text him back when you're ready, when you think you're in a place to talk to him about all this.

Bucky nodded slowly. He hated he part of himself that was about to do this and wished that he could just let it go, but he wasn't a perfect person and he couldn't shake the feeling that he'd done everything to support Steve in his grief and then just been casually tossed aside like he didn't mean a thing. Sam was right - Steve had suddenly found that he was alone and far from home with everyone who loved him now on the other side of a very wide ocean, and now he was trying to back-pedal. A very tiny, very horrible part of Bucky made him want Steve to sweat it out and see what it felt like to have the person you loved more than anyone else in the world ignore your every effort.

Sighing, he lay back down with his head in Natasha's lap again as he ignored the buzzing of the phone in his pocket.

~

Tucked back in the corner of Gabe’s favourite cafe, Steve picked at a giant flaky croissant while Gabe enthusiastically inhaled a grilled ham and cheese sandwich that Steve would have normally been jealous of. Gabe was excitedly telling Steve what to expect at the Gala the next night when the new piece was revealed to the glittering art patrons in attendance. Normally, Steve loved the galas he attended in the past. He loved wearing his gorgeous suit and drinking champagne with people who appreciated the art around them as much as he did but he found that he didn’t care much at the moment. An art gala at the Louvre would have been a dream for him a few months ago but now all he could think about was getting home to Bucky and begging for forgiveness. Still, he feigned interest and paid close attention to what Gabe was telling him until Gabe’s hands stopped signing in mid-sentence and he cocked a wry eyebrow.

_"So I guess you haven’t heard from him yet."_

Steve looked at him in surprise.

_“How do you know?”_

_"Because you look like straight hell and you’ve checked your phone every thirty seconds since we sat down."_

Steve groaned and dropped his head to the table for a minute before taking a deep breath and looking Gabe in the eyes.

“I fucked up bad, Gabe,” he said aloud.

Instead of offering his sympathy or trying to comfort Steve, Gabe simply nodded and took a sip of his coffee.

_“Yes. Yes I’m afraid you did.”_

_"I don’t know why I always shut the people I love out and run away like this. I just thought he would understand, maybe. My mom had just died and…"_

Gabe cut him off by placing one big hand over both of Steve’s and shaking his head firmly.

_"Okay, Steve. I like you and I think that you really are sorry for what happened, so I’m going to give you so real talk now. I’m sorry your mother died and I can’t imagine how much that must have hurt you, but it doesn’t give you the right to mistreat the people who love you. Your boyfriend made himself vulnerable to you and you walked out on him like he didn’t even matter. From what I understand, he put everything on hold for you and you didn't appreciate that until it was too late."_

Steve sat quietly before whispering,

“You’re right.”

His hands were shaking as he pulled out his phone to send Bucky a text but Gabe touched Steve’s wrist and shook his head again.

_"Let me see your bag."_

Confused, Steve handed over his black over the shoulder messenger bag and Gabe’s face lit up with a smile when he opened it and pulled out Steve’s sketch pad and pencils and laid them in front of him.

_"The time for texting is over, Steve. If you want him back, you are going to have to work for it. You are going to have to earn it and you can start right now by writing him a letter. You’d better not hold back. This may be your only chance to tell him everything you want to say — everything that is in your heart."_

Gabe glanced at his watch.

_"You have three hours before we are due in the main gallery. Make the most of them."_

Steve caught the pencil he tossed and watched him flip some cash to the waitress. He glanced back and winked at Steve before walking out into the crowded street.

Two and a half hours later, Steve stared at the finished letter in front of him. It was slightly crumpled in a few places and his normally neat and precise handwriting was uneven and shaky. There were fingerprint smudges in places and even the stains from a few teardrops in the corner. It was imperfect and it was messy but it contained the whole content of his heart and he could only hope it would be enough. He read through one last time before sealing it in the envelope:

**“I love you.**

**I want to start with those words because I want that to be the first thing you read but I know that you won’t believe me. I’ve been sitting here for thirty minutes thinking about what I would say to you if I only had once chance to tell you how I feel. And I guess that is the case, isn’t it? That’s my fault, Bucky. I’m so sorry. When I first started thinking about what I wanted to say, I thought about trying to tell you I love you in every way I know how. I can sign it in ASL and tell you that I love you when I wake up with your hair on my pillow and your arm around me. I’ve never felt so safe in my life as when you are holding me close. I love you when you think I’m sleeping and you talk to me. I can’t hear your words but I feel them against my heart and I understand anyway.**

**Je t’aime.**

**Bucky, I love you in French too. I love you when you throw your head back when you laugh. I can see the long gorgeous line of your neck and the line of your jaw and my fingers itch for my pencil so that I can draw you. But, more than that, they want to touch you. I never stop needing to trace the lines of your face and of your body, memorizing every angle and curve until my fingertips know you as well as my lips do. I love you when I feel your breath against my lips and your body move against mine. I love you when your face goes soft and your eyes are dark.**

**Ti amo.**

**Bucky, I love you in Italian. I love the way you don’t hesitate to give every part of yourself to me. Or you did. You gave me everything, Bucky, and I took it all and then I left you with nothing in return. Oh god. Oh god. I’m so sorry. I have no excuse.**

**Iay ovlay ouyay.**

**Bucky, I love you in Pig Latin? I’m so sorry! I don’t know many languages! I love you when you look at me when you think I’m not watching you but you don’t know that I’m always watching you because I can’t take my eyes off of you ever. I love you when you crawl into my lap during scary movies. I love you when your face lights up when you are completely enraptured by the music you hear. I love you when you are kissing me in the rain or in bed or under the mistletoe. I love you by moonlight and sunlight and firelight. I love you when you are covered from head to toe in snow. I love you when you helped me say goodbye to Ma. I love you as I sit here and try to breathe and I really hope that you are still reading because this is the most important part: I still didn’t love you the way you deserve. If I had, I would never have walked out on you at the airport or put you through the pain of the last couple of weeks.**

**Loving someone is more than something you say — it is something you do — and, Bucky, I know that now. If you can ever forgive me, I will spend the rest of my life showing you how very much I love you. In every action, every decision, everything I do, I will prove that I love you over and over again. I want to make you smile over and over again every single day. I want to massage the soreness from your shoulders every night. I want to take care of you while you are working hard composing beautiful music that I will never hear with my ears but that I will still love with all my heart because it is a piece of you. I want to sit on the front row of ever single performance and cheer the loudest when you take a bow. I want you to be happy. If that means forgetting me and never speaking to me again, I understand. But, if you will give me a chance, I will love you the way you deserve.**

**With all of my heart, for all of my life.**

**Your Stevie.”**

He read through one last time before sealing it in the envelope and checking the time. He had just long enough to rush to the Post Office and then hail a cab to get to the Louvre.

As he was weaving through the crowd, dodging tourists and Parisians alike, a colourful window display caught his eye. He stopped for a second and smiled wistfully at the macarons in the window of the pâtisserie, remembering his and Bucky’s first date. They had barely even been able to communicate as they sat and nibbled the macarons in the park. It seemed so long ago now and so far away. Steve looked at his reflection in the bakery window and thought that he didn’t even recognize himself anymore from the shy, happy kid who fought over the last colourful treat with Bucky that day.

On a whim, Steve ducked inside and quickly purchased a small box of the treats. He was running now, pausing once to use his inhaler to the concern of an older lady with six dogs but he waved her off politely and jogged onward. By the time he made it to the Post Office, he was sure that he was going to be late to the Louvre. The clerk was able to speak some English and Steve was able to write a mix of English and very inferior French to convey that he wanted to ship the letter and macarons overnight to Bucky in New York.

While the clerk typed up the information Steve had given him on the computer, the small blond took out a pencil and doodled a tiny mouse on the inside of the bakery box. The young clerk boxed the letter and macarons together, packing them carefully, before attaching the label and placing them gently in a bin. Steve checked his watch again, hoping that the clerk understood what he wanted, but when he saw the total for shipping and winced reflexively, he was reassured that the package would be on Bucky’s doorstep within 24 hours.

“Merci!” he called out loud as he ran from the building and straight to a queue of qualifying cabs.

The ride to the Louvre was hectic and terrifying but Steve could only close his eyes and think about the letter reaching Bucky as quickly as possible. He just hoped it would be enough.

~

The last few days had been pretty crappy. In class, Bucky could barely concentrate on his work, scrawling half-assed notes when he actually managed to tune into the lecture. At home, he found he had no inspiration when he sat down at the piano, the music that normally came to him as easily as breathing, suddenly gone. He lay awake at night, listening to his phone message tone go off, knowing that Steve was frantic several thousand miles away in France, trying to apologise and make it up to him, but Bucky needed to resist looking at them.

Bucky had finished his classes for the day and made the long commute home, slumping heavily into his building and hauling himself bodily up the stairs, only to fall face-first onto the couch the moment he was through the front door. He was so exhausted that he couldn’t even find the will to take off his coat or boots, and he certainly didn’t know how he was going to find the energy to make food.

He was there a few minutes when he heard Clint’s heavy footfalls followed by Lucky’s claws clicking on the wood floor. He grunted a greeting to his roommate.

“So I guess you’re lying like that because you’ve not seen what came in the mail today,” Clint said cheerfully.

“Is it my boyfriend?” Bucky mumbled dryly into the couch cushion.

‘I know Steve is tiny, but I don’t think he’s quite this small. It did, however, come overnight delivery from Paris.”

Clint had barely finished his final word before Bucky had pushed himself up into a sitting position, shaking hair from his eyes.

“Seriously?” he asked, eyes wide as he looked at Clint who was leaning against the wall with his hands in the pockets of his sweats.

“Yeah,” his roommate replied, “I put it on your bed earlier.”

Bucky was up like a shot, all but running out of the lounge and down the hall to his bedroom, finding the small, unassuming package sitting on top of his blankets at the foot of his bed. He dived on it and tore it open, revealing a small red box, and a folded piece of paper torn from one of Steve’s art pads. It took him a moment to decide if he should read the letter first or open the box but finally opted for the letter, unfolding it carefully as he lowered himself onto the edge of his bed, eyes scanning the page and roaming over what was unmistakably Steve’s handwriting.

The letter was beautiful. Bucky had tears in his eyes when he reached the bottom of the page, fingers of his right hand trembling slightly as he smiled to himself. Steve loved him, but more than that, Steve now understood what he’d done so wrong and was trying to set it right. Even though it had been hell for Bucky to ignore all those texts, he’d finally received his sign to start forgiving his boyfriend, and it was beyond perfect.

Carefully, he set the letter aside and picked up the red box, gently pulling on the soft gold ribbon that held the lid on. The tears that had been welling up in his eyes now spilled over and down his cheeks as he opened the box and saw the contents.

Six brightly coloured macarons lay, lovingly wrapped in tissue paper to prevent them from breaking up in transit. They were small and delicate and Bucky would bet every penny he had that they were delicious and would melt in his mouth when he ate them, but there was something else he noticed that made him laugh through his tears – a small, but perfectly drawn mouse on the inside of the box lid with Steve’s name signed underneath.

Hastily, he drew his sleeve over his face and dug into his jeans pocket, taking out his phone and opening up the text window to finally reply to Steve.

**{ I love you too, stupid <3 }**

~

The sun was coming up, rays of light beginning to kiss the gray steel of the Eiffel Tower and peep through the network of beams to cast shadows on the ground. The city was still asleep. Street lamps glowed softly and Steve’s breath frosted in the chilly morning air as he sat on the edge of a wall across from the tower, dangling his legs off the edge. He had stopped checking his phone for texts three hours ago when he started walking around the city in the dark. Bucky didn’t want him…and Steve understood. His blue eyes were sore from exhaustion and the constant threat of tears but none escaped as he removed his glasses and rubbed his eyes. He wished desperately that he was back in New York — that he had never left in the first place. Too late.

His phone buzzed in his pocket and Steve hoped Gabe wasn’t hoping to make plans for breakfast because he was planning on going back to his apartment and sleeping all weekend to avoid thinking about Bucky. He pulled the phone out, almost dropping it off the edge of the wall and hit the button to light up the display, only to see:

**{ I love you too, stupid <3 }**

His heart slammed against his ribs and he gasped out loud. Bucky. Bucky! He tried to type a message back but he didn’t know what to say. He simply pressed the phone to his forehead, overwhelmed with relief and love and happiness. Tears were running down his cheeks but he was smiling when his phone vibrated again.

**{ Bucky: Are you okay? What are you doing? }**

**{ Steve: I’m crying my eyes out in front of the Eiffel Tower. Bucky, I love you. I love you so much. I’m so sorry for what I did to you. I’m sorry for what I did to us. Can you ever forgive me? }**

It took a little while for the reply to come through.

**{ You really hurt me, Stevie. I love you, but I'm still upset about you running off to another country with barely a word. I never would have stopped you going if that's what you wanted, if that's what you needed, but the least you could have done was talk to me about it. I stood at that airport not knowing if you'd ever come back, and if you did come back, I didn't know if you'd come back to me. I love you, but you need to communicate with me when you're sad, baby - otherwise I don't know where I stand. We're supposed to be a team, getting through these things together, not run away the second it gets overwhelming, okay? }**

The sky was streaked with color and the clouds were edged in gold that Steve couldn’t see but he still thought was the most beautiful sight in the world. His heart felt lighter than it had since before Christmas and it seemed like everything might end up working out okay after all. He took a minute to take deep breaths of the cold morning air, swinging his feet to make the feeling return to his numb toes and watching the light of the last stars wink out before he replied.

**{ If it takes me a lifetime to earn your forgiveness, I will gladly do whatever I need to do, Bucky. }**

He smiled broadly when his phone vibrated in his hand and he saw Bucky’s response.

**{ I don’t think it will take a lifetime but I look forward to seeing what you come up with in the meantime. }**

Steve hopped up from the wall and started making his way back toward the bakery. He suddenly had an appetite for the first time in days. While he walked, he texted.

**{ Steve: Challenge accepted. I love you. }**

**{ Bucky: I love you too, dummy. }**

~

Bucky couldn’t wait to get home from school every day just so that he could see what Steve had sent him next. He adored coming home to the little packages of chocolate or cheesy souvenirs or postcards from Paris, even if he was sure that Steve was pretty much broke now with how much overnight post cost to send to another continent. He really loved it though, because before now, it was Bucky who’d done all the grand romantic gestures and now Steve was finally upping his game and making good on his promise of showing Bucky that he was thinking of him.

Every day, after Bucky had texted Steve to let him know his latest gift had been received, Steve would always ask him, ‘am I forgiven yet?’, to which Bucky would reply, ‘not yet’. He was getting there though, with every passing day, the hurt was easing and Steve was earning back favour.

Walking home with Bucky one evening, Natasha had to admit she was impressed.

“He’s doing better than I thought he would,” she told him cheerfully as they climbed the stairs to Bucky’s apartment.

He grinned at her as he fished out his keys.

“Yeah? I kinda like it.”

“It’s sweet,” Nat said, smiling at him. “I knew that ignoring his messages for a few days would give him a kick up the ass.”

“I still think it might have been overkill,” Bucky mused as he unlocked his door.

“Well, at least he now realises that he loves you more than anything and needs to stop being a jerk to you when times get rough.”

He let out a short laugh as he let Natasha into the apartment and shut the door behind them, kicking off his boots in the hallway. Bucky headed straight to his room, where Clint had been leaving all his mail from Paris, and his heart immediately started beating faster with joy as he spotted the padded envelope on top of his blanket.

“What did you get this time?” asked Nat as she perched on the edge of Bucky’s bed and watched him rip open his package.

Inside the large envelope was a white box of high quality, the designer label emblazoned in gold across the top. Bucky glanced at Natasha and raised his eyebrows as he gently worked off the lid, his mouth dropping open as his eyes took in the gorgeous bright red scarf that lay nestled between layers of delicate white tissue.

“Holy fuck,” Natasha breathed as Bucky very gently removed it from the box, passing her the lid. “Is this actual Dior?”

“It looks like it,” Bucky replied, running the soft wool over his right palm.

“It must have cost a small fortune.”

Bucky nodded slowly as he gently wrapped the scarf around his hand. It was gorgeous, and he’d being doing without his old one since Steve had made off to France with it. He just couldn’t quite believe how expensive the replacement was.

“Shit, Natasha! What even is this?”

He offered her the other half of the scarf and she gently ran her hand over it.

“Cashmere,” she replied immediately.

“Fuuuuuuck!”

Natasha raised an eyebrow, smirking.

“Do you think he’s selling drugs?”

Bucky snorted softly.

“Or his body? Oh god…he’s in Paris - is he nude modelling for some sleazy old bastard?”

Natasha laughed at him and told him that Steve had probably just saved up money or something to buy Bucky the scarf. All the same, the thought weighed heavy on Bucky’s mind for the next few hours. He wondered if Steve had been so desperate to prove himself to Bucky that he’d started selling himself just so he could lavish Bucky with expensive gifts. As soon as Natasha left his apartment, Bucky took out his phone and typed a hasty text.

**{ Baby, please tell me you didn’t get the money for a Dior scarf by nude modelling for some old French sleazeball? I forgive you, you don’t need to buy me expensive stuff cus you think I’m still mad! }**

He had sent it before he realised that it would be the middle of the night in Paris, and felt a twinge of guilt as he looked at the text screen and saw that Steve was typing a reply.

**{ I’m selling my art, you perv! The only person who gets to see me naked is you. Unless that’s not your thing anymore…? }**

Bucky smiled as he breathed a sigh of relief, very quickly texting back:

**{ Stevie, that will never NOT be my thing xx }**

Seconds later, Bucky received a picture message and his breath was taken away. Steve was in bed, golden hair all tousled from sleep and his eyes half-open. He looked positively sexy…and naked. Very naked. The caption under the picture read: all yours.

Bucky bit his lip at the gorgeousness on his phone screen and ran a hand through his hair. Steve really had no idea just how beautiful he was. He looked infinitely better than when he’d left for Paris a few weeks ago – the dark circles under hollow eye sockets were gone, his chin and cheekbones less sharp and more filled out, fair skin glowing in the lamplight and his sky-blue eyes, bright. Bucky had missed seeing his face so much.

**{ Bucky: I’ve changed my mind about Paris. Can you get on the next flight home so I can hold you? }**

**{ Steve: Which part of me do you want to hold most? ;) }**

Alone in his room, Bucky laughed as he curled up on his bed, cradling his head in the crook of his left elbow and he continued to type with his right. This reminded him of when they first started dating – the endless nights of texting and getting to know each other a little better while they waited to see each other again. It felt familiar and comforting, and blissfully normal.

**{ You’re a monster, Steve Rogers ;-) You know that I just want all of you, all at once. I want to hold your body in my arms, I want to bury my nose in your hair and feel how soft it is, and I want to kiss your skin and breathe you in. I miss you so fucking much. I love you so fucking much, and I can’t wait for you to get home <3 }**

It took a while for Steve to reply, Bucky watching the indicator at the bottom of the screen flash as Steve typed, deleted, and retyped his message a few times. Finally, his phone buzzed and Bucky smiled at the words that he read.

**{ I love you so much too, Bucky. I’m just so sorry that it took me going halfway around the fucking world to realise it. Ever since I got here, all I’ve wanted is to be curled up in bed with you, to kiss you, to tell you that you are the best thing that ever happened to me, and I swear on my life Bucky, I will do better. I will never stop showing you how much I love you xx }**

Bucky’s heart was so full of happiness that he could have cried. It was now the second week in February and Steve had been gone for a month. He wasn’t sure how he was going to make it through another four weeks without him.

~

Steve lay in bed for exactly ten more seconds before making up his mind to get up. Throwing the covers back, he scrambled to his feet and reached for his clothes, hastily throwing on his sweater and sticking his foot in the wrong leg hole of his jeans as he tried to type a message to Gabe.

**{ If you’re asleep, you need to get up and meet me ASAP. It’s important. }**


	23. Chapter 23

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was meant to go up a few chapters ago - it's the playlist for what Bucky put on Steve's Christmas gift CD. There's also a tune on there by Ludovico Einaudi which is exactly how I think Bucky's composition would have gone.
> 
> https://8tracks.com/rocksaltandroll/bucky-barnes-bangin-bass-beats

“So...” Bucky said into the phone as he lay on his back on the couch and stared at the ceiling. “You and me, some popcorn, some Film Noir? Tonight? Your place?”

On the other end of the phone, Natasha made an apologetic noise.

“If this was any other Saturday James, you know I’d be there in a heartbeat, but I can’t tonight. I have a date with Sam.”

Bucky slapped his forehead with his left hand and cringed in pain as the metal jarred his brain and left his skin feeling sore. He’d not so much as forgotten that it was Valentine’s Day as forgotten that Natasha and Sam were now officially a couple. Not that they had ever been ‘friends with benefits’ like Bucky had originally thought – before Sam, Natasha had never done relationships and that’s what she was comfortable with. It was the reason she and Bucky had never worked out, as he’d wanted something more than just sex and she hadn’t. Faced with the choice of having Natasha’s friendship and having sex, Bucky chose friendship and they had remained joined at the hip ever since.

He’d never have believed it if somebody had told him Nat would eventually fall in love.

“Sorry,” he said to her. “I’m kinda used to us both being single on V-Day and just holing up i an apartment away from all the hearts and sickening couples.”

“If it was any other day,” Natasha repeated, her voice quiet. “Sam has a table booked...”

“No! Natasha, seriously, it’s all fine,” Bucky replied, faking cheerfulness. “I hope you guys have a seriously lovely time, being all romantic and shit.”

“Maybe Clint will watch some movies with you before he goes to work?”

“Yeah, maybe.”

It wasn’t likely – Clint had taken Lucky on a trip upstate with his friend Kate and they were probably getting up to trouble in a manner that only two accident-prone DJs and a former stray dog could do. If they didn’t end up in a hospital or a police station by ten-o-clock that night, Bucky would be greatly surprised.

Saying goodbye to Natasha and wishing her luck for her date, Bucky hung up the call and tried to figure out what to do with his day. He knew that he should study or compose, but his mind wasn’t on it – Bucky was missing Steve like crazy. They had made up as much as they possibly could for being on opposite sides of the Atlantic, but Bucky was just counting down the days to when he could go to JFK and meet Steve coming off the plane from Paris.

He’d imagined it all in his head – he was going to buy flowers, make sure his hair was all neat and tidy, and wear his best jeans and his navy pea coat that Steve liked him in, and he was going sweep Steve into his arms and kiss his boyfriend right there in front of the entire airport. It was going to be just like in one of those cheesy chick flicks. However, Bucky still had a few weeks before he could do that and he was without his boyfriend or his best friends for the whole of the one day a year where singletons felt like complete trash.

In the end, Bucky reached over for his backpack and took out the slightly battered copy of Atonement that he’d been carrying around with him since Steve had given it to him. He turned on the radio and fluffed the couch cushions up under his head before opening the book and beginning to read. Bucky re-read books often, but this one held some sentimental value and since he couldn’t spend Valentine’s Day with his beloved boyfriend, this was the next best thing, revisiting the love between Robbie and Cecilia, and Briony’s guilt and regret, finally ending in atonement.

He spend a good few hours lost in the book, in the world it created in his head, and Bucky forgot all about everything else in his universe until he was dragged back to reality by a sharp knock at the door. Having no idea who it could possibly be, Bucky frowned as he set his book aside and got up from the couch, crossing the living room to the door and opening it.

Standing there, bundled up against the cold February weather and holding a bunch of velvety red roses almost as big as he was, was Steve. The world seemed to stop still, leaving Bucky dizzy, disoriented, and feeling like all the breath had been pushed from his body all at once.

“Happy Valentine’s Day,” Steve said from behind the flowers.

God, but Bucky had missed hearing that voice, so deep for somebody so small, and so rarely used for anyone but him. Bucky stared, his brain screaming at him to breathe so it could figure out if this was a dream or reality.

Steve grinned up at him, teeth snagged on his plush lower lip and Christ, Bucky had never loved another human being as much in his entire life as much as he loved Steve right now. Reaching out, his left hand closed around the front of Steve’s coat and pulled him forward into the apartment as Bucky closed the door with his right and pushed Steve back against it.

The flowers were dropped to the floor and the black woollen beanie was pushed from Steve’s head in one swift move as Bucky crushed their mouths together, one arm around that tiny waist while the other buried itself in soft golden hair.

“Oh my god, you’re real,” he gasped into Steve’s mouth. “You’re really here. You came back.”

He groaned softly as Steve’s wicked little tongue immediately pushed its way between Bucky’s lips and brushed against his own, those gorgeous hands pulling gently at Bucky’s t-shirt and dragging him closer, pressing their bodies together. In less than a minute they were both breathless, fingers battling with zippers and buttons in a mad rush to get rid of as many clothes as possible in the shortest space of time. Bucky didn’t know where he wanted to put his hands first as he pulled Steve’s thick sweater over his blond head, looking down at his boyfriend’s flushed cheeks and parted lips.

“Fuck…” Bucky murmured as he stroked Steve’s hair back from his face. “You are so fucking beautiful, Stevie.”

Steve smiled at him, soft and breathless and perfect as he pulled Bucky back down for another kiss, and Bucky settled for sliding his hands down to the back of Steve’s thighs, hoisting him up and against the wall, legs wrapped around his waist. He swallowed down Steve’s little surprised noise and growled in return as those sharp little fingernails dug into his scalp. Bucky’s arms circled Steve’s lower back, holding him in place as Bucky kissed his way over Steve’s jaw, leaving a wet, messy trail as he licked and nipped down the side of Steve’s neck. The groan that bubbled up from Steve’s chest was deep and loud and Bucky couldn’t stop the moan that escaped his own mouth.

Steve was here. Bucky had asked him to come back and Steve had – he must have got on the first plane out of Paris and turned up on Bucky’s doorstep and now he was in Bucky’s arms, right where he should have been all along. Bucky’s heart could have burst with all the emotion it held.

Breathless, and supporting Steve’s weight with his left arm, Bucky pulled back and looked at him again. Steve’s lips were already red and swollen, glistening wet and his small chest was heaving. Long fingers stroked through the hair at the back of Bucky’s neck and his bony knees gripped Bucky’s sides firmly.

“I love you,” Steve whispered, blue-eyes staring right into Bucky’s soul. “Bucky, I love you.”

“I love you too, baby,” Bucky murmured, stroking Steve’s hair back gently, still sticking up with static.

He kissed Steve softly, adoring the soft sound that Steve made against his mouth and the way Steve’s arms wrapped around Bucky’s neck, holding him tightly. His baby was home and everything was right in the world.

~

Steve felt the best he’d ever been, straddling Bucky on the couch with his boyfriend buried deep and moving slowly inside of him. For a while, he’d thought that he’d never have this again, never feel Bucky’s skin against his, never kiss him, never feel Bucky stretch him out and make him feel so full and complete.

Twelve hours ago he had been in Paris, hastily stuffing clothes in his suitcase whilst explaining to Gabriel Jones that he was going home immediately. France had been an experience and he was glad in the end that he’d gone, even if it had been under entirely under the wrong circumstances, but he’d been away too long already. He missed Bucky so much it physically hurt, and knowing that his fella wanted him home and to hold him made Steve reach an instant decision.

He’d had his luggage sent on to arrive later, and had stopped to buy the most ridiculous bunch of flowers on his way to Bucky’s apartment in order to complete his very romantic gesture. It was probably fate that it was Valentine’s Day, but the flowers lay abandoned in the hallway along with all of their clothes as the lovers reunited.

They’d fallen into it so easy, like it hadn’t been almost two months since the last time they’d done this. Bucky’s touch set his skin on fire, and his kisses made Steve melt. He wondered how he’d ever been without him for so long, how he’d never stayed away.

Bucky held him gently, prosthetic hand cool against the base of Steve’s back while his warm right hand cradled the base of Steve’s neck. Their mouths were almost touching, panting hard as they stared at each other, Steve’s hips rolling gently and keeping Bucky deep. It wasn’t really even about sex – they weren’t really working to get each other off, they just wanted to hold each other as close as they could, to make up for all the time together that they’d lost.

Steve buried his hands into Bucky’s long, loose hair, tugging at it gently as he nipped at Bucky’s lower lip, pressed light kisses against it, and moaned his name quietly, over and over and over. When Bucky came, it was quiet and soft, his body trembling as he buried his face in Steve’s shoulder. Steve didn’t even care about his own climax as he kissed Bucky’s temple and stroked his boyfriend’s hair.

Later, under the hot spray of the shower, Bucky got to his knees and swallowed Steve down, sucking him off just the way he liked it – pressure concentrated on the tip, long and hard while his hand stroked the shaft quickly. He had Steve coming in no time, legs turning to jelly under the water, and Bucky had to bundle Steve into a towel and carry him through to the bedroom.

Once they were dry and Steve found himself swamped in an oversized t-shirt of Bucky’s and a pair of sweatpants rolled up at the waistband, Bucky kissed him gently on the forehead and stroked Steve’s damp hair from his face.

 _“Welcome home, baby,”_ Bucky signed.

A smile spread over Steve’s face and he reached out to take Bucky’s hands in his, kissing them both gently before letting them go to respond.

_“It’s good to be home.”_

Bucky sat on the bed and pulled Steve in by the hem of his shirt. Steve saw his shoulders rise and fall as he sighed.

 _“We should probably talk about this,”_ Bucky signed.

Steve nodded. The initial bliss of reunion was gone and there were serious matters to discuss. He’d known it was coming, but at the same time Steve had wished it could have been held off for just a little longer.

 _“I think an apology is in order,”_ continued Bucky.

Steve sighed.

 _“I know,”_ he replied. _“I can’t express just how sorry I am...”_

Bucky stopped him by placing his hands over Steve’s and he shook his head, smiling.

 _“I didn’t mean you,”_ Bucky signed. _“I meant from me.”_

Steve frowned.

_“Why?”_

_“Because I ignored you when you reached out to me,”_ Bucky clarified. _“I was hurt and angry and I wanted to hurt you back. It was an awful thing to do because you were already hurting so much. I just added insult to injury, and I’m sorry I did that to you.”_

Steve was taken aback. Bucky looked up at him, his grey-blue eyes soft and sincere.

 _“I understand why you did,”_ Steve replied.

 _“It doesn’t make it right,”_ Bucky signed back. _“What you did was shitty, but what I did was shitty too. We both fucked up, but I love you and I know you love me too. We can move on from this, can’t we? No more crappy behaviour, no more running away.”_

“Okay,” Steve murmured, reaching out and placing his hand gently on Bucky’s cheek, watching as Bucky closed his eyes and leaned into the touch.

Two strong arms wrapped around Steve’s body and pulled him close, back onto the bed and Steve sighed happily as he curled up against his large, warm, solid boyfriend. Nothing felt this good, like being held by Bucky, safe and secure. It felt like home and it had been here all along.

“I love you,” Steve told him.

He felt the rumble in Bucky’s chest as he lay curled up against it and knew Bucky had said the same thing to him.

~

Bucky had been struck with the overwhelming desire to compose just after midnight after weeks of nothing. He left Steve asleep in his bed, blond hair ruffled and dark eyelashes fanned out over his freckled cheeks, chest gently rising and falling with every gentle breath. Bucky still couldn't believe Steve had come home early just for him. His boyfriend was really there, fast asleep and wearing Bucky's clothes and it was almost like it had been before Sarah died.

Quietly, he padded through the apartment, picking up the large bunch of blood red roses that had been abandoned on the floor in favour of getting naked and rediscovering each other's bodies. Bucky pressed the flowers to his nose and breathed in - their scent was faint, but the petals were like velvet against his skin, soft and warm. He smiled to himself and took them through to the kitchen, hastily arranging them in a fat hot dog jar filled with clean water. He left them on the counter while he went into the lounge and sat down at his old, beat-up piano and ran his fingers lightly over the keys.

When Steve had been out of his life, Bucky had been unable to compose a thing properly. His muse had disappeared with his boyfriend and it was almost as though Bucky's talent had gone right along with them. Now that Steve was home, it all came flooding back. Bucky could hear the music in his head, could see it when he closed his eyes; so familiar and real. Now that he sat down at the piano again, the music flowed out of him and into the keys, bringing his composition to life.

The sky was tinged with pink when Bucky heard the soft pad of Steve's bare feet on the floor. Surprised that he'd worked through the entire night, Bucky put his pencil down and turned to find his tiny boyfriend, drowned in borrowed clothes and Bucky's blanket wrapped around his shoulders. Steve's blue eyes were still hazy with sleep and his hair sticking up adorably at all angles, and it was enough for Bucky's heart to melt.

“Bucky?” Steve asked, confused. “What’s going on?”

Smiling at him, Bucky beckoned Steve over.

 _“Put your hands on the piano,”_ he signed.

Steve's forehead creased softly as he padded over and placed one hand flat on the top watching Bucky expectantly. Bucky sat up straight and rolled his shoulders a few times before placing his fingers over the keys and, after breathing in deeply, began to play.

He knew the tune now like it was a part of him, starting slow and tentative, quiet and soft and then gradually building up in tempo. Bucky didn’t even need his sheet music to play it as long as he had Steve there with him, because that’s what this piece was, the thing he’d spent months pouring his heart into, was all for him. The music was what he felt when he was with Steve, through falling in love with him, times when they’d been happy, times that that been awful, their separation by an ocean and a thousand words they’d never known how to say, and finally how happy Bucky was with Steve now.

He barely looked at the keys, letting his fingers find the right ones on their own and watching Steve’s face as he felt the vibrations of the music through his feet and his hands; the way his eyes lit up when he realised what Bucky’s composition was about. Bucky couldn’t stop smiling as he came to the end and played out the final notes, his fingers finally falling still.

" _I called it 'Steve's Theme'."_

Steve’s blue eyes were shining with moisture but he was beaming.

 _“You composed your final music piece for me,”_  he signed; a statement, not a question.

 _“Yes,”_ replied Bucky, biting his lip. _“Did you like it?”_

A small sob escaped from Steve’s mouth as he smiled and nodded his head.

“It was beautiful,” Steve whispered. " _Needs a better name though_."

Bucky grinned as he stood up and pulled Steve to him, wrapping his arms around his boyfriend’s small frame, breathing in the scent of his hair. Nobody would ever fit next to him as perfectly as Steve did. His boyfriend looked up at him, still smiling through happy tears.

“I love you so much, James Buchanan Barnes,” Steve told him aloud.

“I love you too, Steven Grant Rogers,” Bucky replied.

He leaned in and kissed the tip of Steve’s nose before unwinding himself from Steve’s body.

_“Do you want to go get some dessert for breakfast?”_

_“Lady M?”_ Steve replied with a raised eyebrow.

Bucky laughed.

_“You know me too well.”_

Steve grinned at him.

 _“You’re buying the macarons this time,”_ he signed before holding out his hand for Bucky to take.

“Okay,” Bucky replied, linking metal fingers with Steve’s.

This time around, he promised to let Steve eat the last treat.


	24. Epilogue

Steve had honestly thought that Christmas would have been awful without his mother, with too many sad memories clouding up the day. He was pleasantly surprised to be proven wrong.

He and Bucky had woken up early and exchanged gifts with one another before getting dressed and heading off to Aunt Helen's. The potted Christmas tree that Steve had bought the year before had been planted in the front garden of the huge house and had been decorated with colourful outdoor lights. Steve and Bucky had stayed up making Rocky Road for all the foster kids who all devoured it within ten minutes.

They had started a new tradition with their friends - Natasha and Sam, Clint, and Bucky's sister Rebecca all came to Steve and Bucky's place for Christmas Lunch, each of them bringing a dish of something for the meal while Bucky roasted the turkey and Steve made his special creamy herb mashed potatoes. Steve never knew he could be so happy, so content with his life. Everybody at the table used ASL all day long, and they laughed until their sides ached and they felt sick from eating too much.

Steve had still been grinning as he washed the dishes later, after everybody had left. He was up to his elbows in soapy suds when he caught a movement from the corner of his eye and he turned to look, immediately bursting out laughing. Bucky was standing in the doorway of the kitchen, completely naked but for the old Santa hat hanging precariously on his dick. He grinned at Steve.

 _"Are you ready to unwrap your second gift?"_ Bucky signed.

Steve was still shaking with laughter as he wiped off his hands and shooed Bucky towards the bedroom with a slap to his bare behind with the wet dishcloth.

He would always look forward to unwrapping Bucky Barnes at the end of the day. He'd be happy to do that for the rest of his life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who has read this story for your support.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Cover art for Undertones and Overtures [Fanart]](https://archiveofourown.org/works/6735124) by [lilfayt](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lilfayt/pseuds/lilfayt)




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